Apocalypse: I Built the Infinite Train

Lin Xian made his way toward the storage and living carriages, checking on the conditions of each section. KIKI trailed behind, asking,

“Lin Xian, are you really just gonna trust that thing like this?”

“What choice do I have if I don’t?” Lin Xian replied. “It’s not like we can toss it. Since we’re seeing some benefits now, let’s just use it. No point letting fear of the unknown mess with our judgment.”

After that earlier mess, Lin Xian realized that the Forbidden Item seemed to have been successfully “contained” by accident. The brutal scenarios KIKI had warned him about from past containment failures didn’t occur, which is what led him to this line of thinking.

“You’re right.”

KIKI nodded after some thought. “That thing breathes fire—maybe it really was just contained by Fire Bro. That’s the only explanation I can come up with.”

As Lin Xian walked, he suddenly stopped and gave a bitter laugh. “Maybe it’s because we’ve fallen into so many traps before. Now that we’ve hit the jackpot, it just feels unreal. Honestly, I still can’t believe we got away from that Corpse Shepherd completely intact.”

Back on the mountains outside Yijin City, when he first saw the Corpse Shepherd and that massive surge of Eerie Entities, Lin Xian’s mind went totally blank. That suffocating, hopeless feeling was something he’d never forget.

“Fire Bro might talk like a joker, but he’s extremely cautious. If there was a problem, he’d have dealt with it immediately. I trust him.”

Looking back, if Fire Bro had really been infected by Fungal Threads, his actions were clearly meant to protect the rest of the convoy. In this apocalypse, someone who’d face death alone to shield his comrades—how could Lin Xian not trust a teammate like that? Handing a Forbidden Item over to him seemed completely justified.

Besides, the thing was something Fire Bro had stumbled upon by sheer dumb luck anyway. Judging by now, the guy was practically walking around with plot armor.

Hearing this, KIKI smiled sweetly. “Hmm, you look a lot brighter now that you’re not worrying about everything.”

Lin Xian raised an eyebrow. Are you trying to say I look pale?

Well… fair.

Checking the time, Lin Xian sighed in relief. “We’re almost out of the Polar Night zone. But since it’s still nighttime, we can’t let our guard down. Go get some rest. Keep the radar running at full power. We’re not using lights, so it’s all we’ve got.”

“Alright, alright~” KIKI stretched. “Then I’m going to bed. Don’t you dare wake me.”

“I won’t.”

“No, no, if something happens, you have to wake me.” KIKI suddenly looked worried again. She walked over, wrapped her arms around Lin Xian’s neck, her big eyes watery. “Or... how about I stay with you?”

Lin Xian glanced toward the rear carriage and shook his head. “Nope. You need proper rest. The Sky Mushroom Tower explosion definitely took a toll on you. There are so many people on the train now, you don’t need to worry about me. Just get some sleep.”

Rest was critical for surviving crises. Lin Xian had realized that ever since leaving Jiang City. More importantly, the transformation of the Hell’s Black Chrysanthemum's dark energy—resting was the best time for one’s body to evolve.

Except for Lin Xian, who didn’t need rest. Thanks to the Eerie Cube, all that energy was directly converted into Mechanical Source Points, efficient and simple.

“Okay then.”

KIKI understood he was just concerned and didn’t press it. “Be careful, alright? Once Chen Jie and I wake up, it’ll be your turn to sleep.”

“Mm.”

With that, she glanced at Ning Jing, then turned and left.

Before leaving, Ning Jing had been staring out the window—the noisy Gobi Desert stretching wider and whiter like a sea. She activated her Mechanical Heart, finishing her inspection of the carriages and framework. Soon she arrived at Carriage 12, where Shi Diyuan stood silently in the shadows. His mechanical face was eerie yet beautiful, his silver-white metal skin shimmering faintly.

Ning Jing walked up and touched something. A strange resonance surged through the chill, and her Mechanical Heart seemed to tremble in response.

Inside the stark white Carriage 12, Zhuang Rengu stood quietly. Meanwhile, in the Gemini 11R Nuclear-Powered Carriage up front, a special lead container holding a suspension fluid containment unit suddenly lit up, glowing a cherry-red hue. Something pale appeared within the contents—then blinked out quickly, disappearing without a trace.

Ning Jing’s expression changed slightly. She withdrew her hand and stared at Shi Diyuan’s grotesque face.

“Weird… It’s not even shut down, and yet… why do I feel like it’s watching me?”

After a moment, Lin Xian looked away. He felt a strange unease.

Toward the back, all the tools from the original Infinite Train tool carriage had been moved. A large maintenance area had been set up, fully equipped. Many of the devices were ones Lin Xian had scanned and manufactured along the way. Daluo, Lü Chang, and others with some repair knowledge were now able to help take over much of the train’s upkeep.

With Luo Yang and Li Yi’s teams joining, maintenance support became even stronger. Luo Yang’s team consisted of skilled university tech majors with hands-on ability. Li Yi’s team were hardy workers, both technically skilled and combat-ready—you could tell by the way they’d converted construction vehicles into apocalypse-ready war machines.

Add in AI Grace and the PX-05 maintenance robots, plus an automatic bullet press that Lin Xian built—this setup alone cut 60% of his burden. Now he could focus more on boosting the convoy’s overall combat capabilities, strengthening ties with the Phoenix, and upgrading internal living areas with greenery, entertainment, and automation—turning the Infinite Train into a fully mobile Steel Fortress!

With that in mind, Lin Xian found an open corner, sat down, and began manufacturing a set of Black Hawk – Silent Hunter Power Armor for himself. He’d add some custom mods to fully enhance his combat prowess.

He’d also make two spare PX-05 robots, to deploy when they restructured the carriages later.

Clang. Clang.

He got to work. The mechanical manufacturing interface booted up, materials flying out to begin forging the basic components.

The Joint Train sped across the vast wilderness of the Gobi Desert, wind howling as its steel wheels roared nonstop. From 2 PM to 7 PM, it kept racing forward. The dark sky stretched endlessly above, like a black curtain that never lifted.

Staring into the boundless dark wasteland, there was this indescribable feeling of being abandoned by the world. Then, all of a sudden, every communicator across the convoy lit up with Lin Xian’s voice.

“All convoys, we’ve officially exited the Polar Night zone of Abyss Zone No. 5, but we’re still within the range of the Dark Tides. Judging by their speed, dawn should arrive around 9 to 10 AM tomorrow.

We currently don’t have any Dark Markings, so we’re in stealth mode. You can turn on your vehicle lights and carry on with normal tasks—but stay alert!”

Inside the Infinite Train, Lin Xian checked the travel logs on his mobile terminal as he made the announcement via communicator.

“Whew~”

He finally exhaled deeply. It was his first time entering a Polar Night zone, even if just the edge of Abyss Zone No. 5, and it had been intense—broken rails, Fungal Threads, steel-melting mycelium carpets, the Sky Mushroom Tower, the Crimson World, the Corpse Shepherd—one crisis after another, all terrifying.

Escaping this time wasn’t about strength or strategy—it was a miracle.

“Guess the old saying was right—‘Survive a great disaster and fortune will follow.’”

Right after the chaos of Xilan City, they nearly lost all hope again in Yijin City. If not for an unbreakable will, they wouldn’t even have the courage to keep going.

Tang Yun was living proof. Her husband was gone, and she had no desire to face the apocalypse. She’d rather be consumed by Fungal Threads than flee. Once someone loses the will to live, all that’s left is being swallowed by darkness—turning into a Zombie or an Eerie Entity.

The last time there was a mass transformation like that was during the first day of defending Xilan City, when a sudden Sinkhole created by Abyss Worms sent the whole city into chaos.

Now though, with only the strong remaining and fewer mental breakdowns, it was rare to see anyone mutating into Eerie Zombies among the survivor convoys—unless it was from a major injury or a collapse of the will.

Lin Xian’s broadcast sparked excited cheers from convoy leaders across the fleet.

“That’s great!”

“We’re out of the Polar Night zone?!”

“Thank God!”

“Lin, Shi—you guys really went above and beyond!”

“Exactly. We can’t relax until we see the dawn, but this is a huge relief.”

“Let the wounded and the women and kids rest first. Everyone else, rotate shifts! Eyes and radars both need to stay sharp!”

“Right, right. Don’t worry—we’re in this together. We’ll see the dawn for sure!”

“Got it!”

At the front of Dragon Mountain No. 1, Ning Jing stood in the command cabin and finally let out a breath of relief. She gave orders to her crew, then walked back into a rest room.

Inside, Shi Diyuan’s bandages had been half removed—only his shoulder and ribcage remained wrapped. Those wounds were horrifying, nearly torn open by a Snow Fiend and a Winged Demon working together. Just thinking about it gave people chills. Even with his Breakthrough-Level Beast Mutation Ability and freakish healing rate, he still hadn’t fully recovered.

“Brother Lin, you’ve been through a lot. Once daylight comes, we’ll probably reach those small western towns near Lobu. Maybe we can rest there for a bit.”

Ning Jing overheard Shi Diyuan chatting with some of the convoy leaders. She nodded and said, “We only made it out of the Polar Night thanks to Captain Lin. He’s not just skilled—his intuition is off the charts. Feels like he was born to lead.”

Shi Diyuan laughed. “Told you he wasn’t ordinary! Back in Yubei, this guy drove into a zombie tide with only five or six people, relying on one Gas Turbine and one Nuclear Engine. Even Miss Jian from Feng Group thought highly of him. I knew he was my kind of guy. You see now? Didn’t misjudge him, did I?”

Ning Jing found a seat and nodded. “So what’s next? When we were about to enter Yijin City, I heard him mention heading to Jinhai, to re-enter the Planetary Orbital Rail. Looks like he plans to pass through Dawn City. That place has a big population, but it’s also former Federation territory—definitely complicated.”

Shi Diyuan picked up on her implication. His eyes grew serious as he fell into thought.

Clearly, from Quancheng northward toward the northeast, if they drove at full speed by day without stopping, they’d reach the Dawn Center within a week. Even if there were obstacles, they’d arrive at Qiong’gu Strait within two weeks. The bridge there had collapsed, and transporting six million people by ferry was no joke. Plus, survivors kept heading northeast toward Tianji.

Now, cities like East Sea and Tianji had Phoenix populations rivaling Jinhai.

“Following the Dawn Center makes things easier,” Shi Diyuan said seriously. Entering the Dawn Center meant finding a central base—even if mobile, it was something to rally around.

Unlike the Phoenix Aerospace Cities like Noah, the Dawn Center’s mission wasn’t just survival—it aimed to gather all survivors from across the globe and bring them to the Polar Base. But because of that, it moved slowly—spending 20–30 days in each region before moving on.

Given the massive population of the Dragon Nation, and the ferry crisis at Qiong’gu, the Dawn Center would likely stay put for months. Meanwhile, the Phoenix, Starfleet, and affiliated convoys were pouring resources into the Polar Defense Lines—cities, ports, everything fortified.

Leading the construction effort was Xinghua Heavy Industries, building Xuanwu Fortress and Kunlun Starhub, designed to hold tens of millions—mankind’s final bastion. Also, the last spaceport to escape Blue Planet.

That’s why orbital trains like theirs were crucial. They didn’t need to rely on the slow route through the Dawn Center—they could take the Transoceanic Rail, crossing the Pacific and Black Ocean directly to the Polar Ice Cap.

Dragon Mountain No. 1 and Silver Star shared this vision. The former played it safe; the latter, more aggressively. But if Polar Night couldn’t be stopped, and the world collapsed, escaping the planet would be humanity’s only hope.

Still, resources were limited. Not everyone could get on the ships. Some would die in the dark.

So the Phoenix ran a multi-phase survival plan. The Starship Program was the final backup—to give people hope, and keep them fighting back.

“I think we’ll need to hit Jinhai,” Shi Diyuan finally said. “We need to fully convert Dragon Mountain No. 1 to all-terrain capability—for what’s ahead.”

“Right,” Ning Jing replied. “Even if we reach the Dawn Center, we’ll still live on trains. Tracks are a limitation—for us and for them. If something goes wrong… are we just going to abandon Dragon Mountain No. 1?”

“I get it. Let’s travel with Captain Lin’s crew—we can support each other.”

One by one, the lights turned on in Dragon Mountain No. 1 and the Infinite Train. Warm yellow glows poured through armored windows, lighting up the Gobi’s gravel and scrub.

All 22 trains, nearly 500 carriages, began to illuminate. A 15-kilometer steel serpent glowing like a chain of stars, forging ahead across the land.

Inside Dragon Mountain No. 1’s living carriage, Xiao Qing was fully geared up, wiping down her blade. When the lights came on, she slowly raised her head. Her cold eyes softened slightly. She glanced at A’Bai still sleeping in the opposite bunk, picked up a can, frowned, then swapped it for an empty one—and chucked it at him.

Thunk!

A’Bai jerked awake.

“What’s going on?”

“The... lights,” Xiao Qing murmured.

A’Bai looked up. Through his sunglasses, he squinted at the faint light cutting through the darkness.

He reached toward it, a smile spreading across his young face. “We’re finally out of the Polar Night.”

The living carriages erupted in noise.

Lights meant safety. The worst was over.

People stood up cheering. Chatting started. Logistics staff hauled supplies from the storage carriages. The kitchens fired up—hot food, hot soup.

Even music echoed from one carriage—a song from an old music player.

That oppressive darkness was finally lifted. This train was home in the apocalypse. Their safety was now welded to these steel rails.

On the Joker Convoy side, Qian Dele had changed out of his coat, now sporting a stylish shirt and a pink trench coat. With steady steps, he walked into the rear carriage. His crew members went silent, watching him approach. None of them had much experience living on a train, and their carriage still hadn’t been fully set up—but they all felt the same comforting sense of security that the train provided.

Qian Dele glanced at them and chuckled.

“What are you all staring at me for? Isn’t this the perfect time to prep food, set up your sleeping quarters, and stock the weapons bay? Move it!”

“Heh, Boss Qian!”

One bulky guy wearing both a rifle and a chef’s outfit stood up, grinning sheepishly. “Everyone’s saying we scored some steaks this time. Uh…”

Qian Dele gave them a long look. His men’s eyes were practically sparkling with anticipation. He snorted a laugh and waved a hand.

“Why are you asking me? If we’ve got steak, eat it! The better the steak, the less you wanna freeze it. Live a little, will you? Who the h*ll knows if we’ll even see tomorrow? Lao Zhou—grill it, stew it, roast it, fry it, whatever the crew wants, just do it. And break out the booze! Honestly, asking me something so obvious.”

The moment he finished, the entire crew erupted in excitement.

“Hell yeah! Fire it up! We’ve got rice, seafood, and steak!”

“Move it, move it!”

“Xiaomeng~” Qian Dele turned to her. “Sort something out for me, I just want something light.”

Then he strolled over to a couch and sat down with a grin, watching his crew bustle around.

Xiaomeng looked over at her captain. Despite his picky, sharp-tongued nature and his somewhat unmanly vibe, she knew better than anyone—Qian Dele was a straight shooter, a free spirit through and through. He never hid anything from his team. Everyone on the convoy lived with a “drink today, fight tomorrow” mentality. If she didn’t personally manage the logistics, the entire crew would probably starve half the time and feast the other.

Meanwhile, on the Monica Queen, the mood was starkly different. In the automated carriage, everything was dead silent.

The lights had just flickered on when Carriage No. 1’s doors slid open.

Monica emerged slowly, dressed in a sleek white power armor under-suit—flame-resistant, insulated, and optimized for movement. It was high-end gear usually reserved for elite Starfleet special forces and pilots.

Though she’d removed her power armor, the skin-tight under-suit perfectly hugged her form, instantly drawing every gaze in the room.

The men aboard the Monica Queen were used to her bold fashion sense, but even so, they were momentarily stunned.

Monica always insisted her carriages be spotless. In Carriage 1, her walk-in closet alone took up a fifth of the space. Even in an apocalyptic world, she maintained her elegance.

As she walked out, several men stared, eyes wide. She was their leader, and in this male-dominated world, she was not just stunning in appearance and aura—she was an absolute powerhouse.

In any normal post-apocalyptic setting, a woman wouldn’t be able to maintain that kind of presence around battle-hardened men. But Monica was different.

Her Ability was monstrously strong—Breakthrough-Level. She also owned a fully automated, fortress-class apocalypse train. Her resources were vast. With her fierce-yet-soft leadership style, she’d won the loyalty of numerous warriors who would die for her.

Sure, some men on the train didn’t like her or quietly questioned her position—but none dared challenge her authority.

In the apocalypse, power, supplies, and shelter defined your worth—whether man or woman.

And Monica gave her men all of that—plus a rotating fashion show. Even if they couldn’t touch, it beat staring at rotting zombies every day. What was there to complain about?

Monica scanned the room with poise, then raised a hand. A terminal slid out from the wall. She tapped on it, and robotic arms extended from the Supply Carriage, delivering freshly prepared meals made by chefs and automation.

The trays came packed with steak, veggie juice, fruit, wine—even a cigarette.

Everyone’s jaws practically hit the floor.

Monica’s lips curled in a faint smile as she lifted her wine glass and declared in a clear, elegant voice:

“You’ve all worked hard. Escaping the Polar Night was no small feat. This toast is for you.”

“Monica—Queen Monica—it’s you we should be toasting!” one man stammered, clutching his glass.

“That’s right!”

“You’re the reason we’re still alive!”

“Following you was the best decision I ever made!”

They all stood, faces beaming, gazes intense with admiration and devotion.

At that moment, Monica looked like the radiant queen of salvation in a world of death. Her bold curves gleamed in the light, radiating a sensuality that sparked primal desire—but still demanded reverence.

Even Song Hao and Fatty couldn’t hide the hunger in their eyes.

Of course Monica felt their attention. She smiled faintly, relishing it like a war trophy.

“Cheers.”

She clinked glasses with her crew, then turned and left the room with her usual graceful flair.