Apocalypse: I Built the Infinite Train-Chapter 342: Heading towards the distant stars!

Underground Nuclear Bunker, Western Hills of Baicheng – Main Control Room, Lowest Level. All systems and energy sources for the entire bunker were centralized and controlled from this room.

At first, Lin Xian thought Mochizuki Shinji was merely an administrator. He didn’t expect that the man was the bunker’s central “brain.” More than that, he was also the intelligence core of the entire Silent City.

This revelation stunned the exploration team. Who would’ve thought that a once-global tycoon had actually digitized his consciousness?

However, after scanning him, Lin Xian noticed some key differences between Mochizuki Shinji and Grace. He had a strange feeling that this person might not be a robot entirely—because a robot shouldn’t emit Soul Wave Values.

Inside the vast control room, the lights were bright, and cables converged like veins. Mochizuki Shinji had a delicate tea table brought in by drones. Several service-type robots gracefully served tea. Within this underground fortress, amid the looming crisis of Star Abyss, this serene setting felt surreal to the team—almost as if Mochizuki Shinji didn’t fear death at all.

Everyone removed the facial armor of their power suits. Lin Xian looked up at the robot serving him tea. Its refined appearance resembled a traditional neon-lit Kabukicho hostess. He couldn’t help but think: if Mochizuki Shinji were just like Grace—a robot—then perhaps he truly had nothing to fear from death.

“Someone doesn’t want us to leave?”

Lin Xian looked at the man dressed in plain robes, his sleeves folded, eyes slightly squinting. “You mean the Deep Crimson World?”

“No, no, no.” Mochizuki Shinji shook his head and corrected him. “That’s a forecast—not a designation. I said a ‘presence’ exists, not a specific person or organization.”

He glanced at Grace, then spoke directly to Lin Xian: “If possible, would you mind asking this robot to sit out of this discussion?”

“Sure.” Lin Xian understood his concern. It wasn’t a problem. For safety, he had Grace step out of the control room.

Mochizuki nodded in satisfaction and smiled.

“Let me guess—you have a mechanical ability. The Doomsday Rail Train concept is a solid one. If you ask me, it ranks in the top five of all ‘Doomsday Survival Plans.’ Right now, you’re trapped in Star Abyss. You sent a Deep Crimson AI robot to scout Baicheng—and stumbled upon my Silent City. So, combining this with your mechanical ability, I assume your plan involves using some part of my city. Maybe propulsion engines, mobility devices, or some such gear.”

He paced slowly, as if pondering something. Then he turned back and stared at Lin Xian with his deep quantum eyes.

“But I don’t know much about your mechanical ability. I heard you can devour machines? And also manufacture things from nothing?”

Lin Xian was slightly surprised. He looked at the youthful-looking Mochizuki Shinji, who appeared to be around sixteen or seventeen.

“Yes, I can. But my plan involves a Superconducting Magnetic Anchor Array.”

Mochizuki’s eyes lit up at the mention. He stared at Lin Xian for a moment, then nodded in amazement.

“Installing EDS distributed magnetic levitation coils onto your train… then launching it out of Baicheng via connection rails? Wow. I must say—good idea! Brilliant. How should I describe it… I like bold, creative solutions like this!”

“But…” he said, walking over and crouching by Lin Xian’s desk, eyes filled with interest. “To get the train out of Baicheng, the rail must pass through Wangshan Pass—the very area where Silent City is located. Unless you can neutralize the Star Abyss Overlord, your plan is only half complete.”

“So let’s cooperate—escape together. What do you say?”

“You want to take down an S-class entity?” Qian Dele sipped his tea. “You really think you have that kind of power?”

“How exactly do we cooperate?” KIKI’s eyes sparkled with interest. “Don’t tell me you’ve already run out of options?”

Lin Xian stared at Mochizuki Shinji, frowning slightly. There was something... off. Not just him—others also harbored doubts. If what he said was true, that they had survived inside Silent City with only a few hundred people for nearly two months—under this dark invasion density—that alone was an incredible feat.

Everyone knew that the first Polar Night had already wiped out 99% of humanity. Star Abyss should’ve been even worse.

Still, Qian Suxun was curious and spoke up. “Are you referring to that Star Abyss Behemoth—or the presence targeting us?”

“Good question.” Mochizuki seemed to capture everyone’s confusion instantly. He stood with arms crossed and calmly said:

“First, you're wondering how we survived for two months in Silent City.”

“Actually, it’s simple.” He held up a finger, explaining decisively in front of Lin Xian: “We rely on three things—logistical support from robots hauling supplies, early detection of Inner Tidal Rhythms, and three assets: a unique disaster flora, a psychic-type ability user named Shiori Hoshino, and a reflective material I’ve been developing. It's only 10% complete, but it’s already showing promise.”

“Second, why are we still here? Besides Silent City, this location has accelerated time flow, which helps tremendously in calculating dark particle dimension formulas. Granted, it’s risky, but we’re running out of time. Between global collapse, poisoned water, and those damn Descent Faction cultists, we now have less than one year and ninety-six days left. Possibly even less.”

“Because at this point, global darkness is no longer the main issue. If the dark invasion isn’t resolved, based on current water toxicity and resource data, humanity has less than three months left.”

His rapid speech threw one shocking fact after another at Lin Xian.

This man not only had disaster flora but was making real progress in resisting the dark invasion—and using time dilation to accelerate his research.

A mad genius, no doubt.

Lin Xian’s brows furrowed slightly. “You’re using the time dilation effect here for research?”

“Exactly.” Mochizuki raised a finger, his mechanical pupils contracting and expanding rapidly. “And beyond that, we’ve discovered some very interesting things here—like forbidden items, and the Crimson Skeletal Horror.” “Oh, right—you’ve dealt with a Deep Crimson AI, so you must know… those guys are way ahead of the Phoenix Society and the Federation in their dark research.”

This stunned everyone.

“You’re saying the Deep Crimson World accelerated their research because of this time anomaly?” Lin Xian’s heart pounded. But something still didn’t add up. “That can’t be right. The Deep Crimson World is still a human organization. How could they survive in Star Abyss this long…?”

Ning Jing and the others were just as confused. “Don’t tell me… they also have disaster flora or forbidden items?”

“Disaster flora and forbidden items are both manifestations of darkness,” Qian Suxun chimed in. “They’re double-edged swords. They can’t truly shield against dark disaster. And don’t forget—this is the heart of the Eerie Entities’ nest. If these things were enough, humanity wouldn’t be on the brink.” “Even we can’t stay here for long—we’ll need to retreat soon.”

Lin Xian didn’t reply immediately. Qian Suxun’s point was valid. His Eerie Cube only worked because it had been reforged via mechanical ability, and even then, it merely blocked the psychic corruption from the darkness. It couldn’t defend against Eerie Entities or physical threats. Even the Hell Black Chrysanthemum onboard and other forbidden items were only providing partial mitigation by converting some negative energy.

But once someone is marked… the end is inevitable.

“So how does the Deep Crimson World manage to run experiments here?” Monica asked.

Mochizuki Shinji stepped forward. With a hiss, the floor opened, and two transparent fluid tanks rose up—one on each side.

Inside them: two corpses, one male and one female. Both were heavily cybernetically modified—the man’s cyberlegs were torn, his chest gouged open. The woman’s skull was half-devoured by some Eerie Entity. But strangely, both had mechanical implants at the back of their heads, and visible through their shattered skulls… a web of white mycelial threads embedded throughout their brains.

The moment Lin Xian and others saw the mycelia, they recognized it immediately: the same fungal network they encountered in Yijin City.

“What the hell is this… fungal brains and machine implants?” KIKI exclaimed.

Qian Dele followed up: “Were they from the Deep Crimson World?”

“Yes and no,” Mochizuki said with a bitter smile. “I know it sounds strange. These two were researchers from Deep Crimson’s organization. They worked in one of their secret labs inside Star Abyss. But in another sense… they weren’t really ‘members’ of the Deep Crimson World.”

This confused everyone. But what he said next turned their expressions grim.

“Strictly speaking, these people were kidnapped ability users—transformed into temporary ‘humans’ through dark mycelia and digital memory implants.”

“Transformed?” Lin Xian felt a chill down his spine. “You mean… the Deep Crimson World implanted their memories into someone else's brain?”

Mochizuki pointed into the air with a faint smile. “Exactly. Well said.”

“To explain: Deep Crimson researchers upload their memory templates, then use a converter to ‘overwrite’ kidnapped ability users, making them into containers. These vessels then enter Star Abyss for research. A ‘Titan-tier’ Evolver might survive two or three days at most. With cybernetic upgrades, they might last a week. It’s incredibly efficient.”

“They mass-deploy these bodies and exploit the time dilation here to collect rapid experimental data. The real researchers don’t even suffer losses—because they’re fanatics.”

“What?!” Chen Sixuan was horrified. “They… they treat living ability users as disposable vessels?”

“Why not use robots?” Ning Jing asked coldly.

Mochizuki shrugged. “A fair question—from someone on Dragon Mountain No. 1. Unfortunately, the current state of AI engineering makes that impossible. I said earlier: processors capable of forming even preliminary human consciousness are incredibly rare. Most AI still relies on cloud computing for real intelligence. Standalone terminal units just don’t have the capacity for deep cognition—much less elite scientific research.”

“So what Deep Crimson did—creating these fungal-brain hybrids—was a ‘cult-tech’ workaround. It lets them copy a professor-level researcher’s consciousness into a temporary digital lifeform. Short-lived, yes. But imagine: 1,000 engineers, 1,000 biologists, 1,000 physicists. Now it makes sense, doesn’t it?”

His words echoed like devil’s whispers in everyone’s ears. Lin Xian’s frown deepened. Now he finally understood why, back in Akesai, the Sand Raiders had price tags for capturing ability users. The Deep Crimson World wasn’t just using them for research—they were burning living people as fuel.

“And the mycelia aren't fully controllable either,” Mochizuki added. “So mortality rates are still extremely high. Of course, some coward instances do emerge. Since the brain becomes the processing unit, you sometimes get residual influence from the original mind, or unintended behaviors. That just shows Deep Crimson still hasn’t mastered the tech.”

He folded his hands into his sleeves, eyes darkening slightly. “It’s embarrassing to say this... but the Digital Life Program was my creation. Though I never foresaw Deep Crimson misusing mycelia this way, the concepts of memory uploading, loop iteration, and digitized identity all stemmed from the Mochizuki family. So yes—I bear responsibility. Maybe 30%... or 20%... who knows?”

“So Baicheng does have a Deep Crimson lab—and you’re monitoring them?” KIKI asked directly. “Planning to intercept their data?”

“Correct.” Mochizuki smiled. “Very astute, young lady.”

Monica's eyes narrowed. “So, you’re doing all this—risking lives—just to rush a cure for the dark invasion? For humanity? Or is it just to ease your own guilt?”

Her tone was sharp, slicing straight through the performance.

Lin Xian had known Silent City had dealings with other factions and used its industrial power to expand. He had never truly believed Mochizuki was acting for some noble cause.

But Mochizuki didn’t respond—he only smiled. It was Qian Suxun, head of the Tech Research City, who broke the silence.

“As humans, isn’t racing for a cure the common goal? Whether it’s to save others or to save ourselves—what’s the difference?”

Then Mochizuki turned to Lin Xian. “Captain Lin, may I ask: given that your team—using light vehicles and tidal pattern knowledge—has a 40-50% chance of escaping Star Abyss… why are you risking it all on launching a train with a Superconducting Magnetic Anchor Array?”

Lin Xian understood the implication immediately. “Because like you said—if I lose my train and my team, I won’t last long either.”

He meant it. The United Train was a bond of survival. Everyone—Hu Lushou and the rest—had faced death together. In such times, humans believed unity gave them strength. That instinct was hardcoded into their genes.

“Bingo.” Mochizuki responded seriously. “We’re the same. But I’m thinking bigger. I don’t just want to escape with Silent City and live one more year.”

He gestured toward Qian Suxun. “My people—my 100,000 residents—have greater ambition. If we can crack the secret of Star Abyss and the dark invasion, then maybe, just maybe, we can…” He turned to Lin Xian, voice steady and passionate.

“…break through the veil of night, and carry the brilliance of human civilization… to the stars!”

The room fell silent. Lin Xian gazed deeply at the boyish-looking man whose words carried such fire. His youthful face had spoken with the resolve of a titan.

Standing there with hands in sleeves, Mochizuki Shinji resembled a mountain—unshakable, profound, transparent in conviction. As if saying: “This is my path. Why hide it?”

No wonder Qian Suxun, Ryuunosuke, and others followed him—giving up their fleeting time not for survival, but to step into history.

Lin Xian, hearing this, suddenly felt his own anxiety quiet.

“Tell me your plan.” He spoke plainly—and now, everyone in the exploration team focused.

Mochizuki Shinji gave a calm smile and looked at Lin Xian and the others.

“First issue—we’re targeting the Deep Crimson World, and naturally, they’ve already set their sights on Silent City. If we want to execute an evacuation, we must eliminate the sacrificial lab inside Baicheng. Otherwise, they’ll definitely sabotage our departure plan. But there are three major obstacles.”

“The Crimson Skeletal Horror, the Inner Tidal Waves, and the protective system surrounding the mycelial memory cores.”

“What kind of protective system?” KIKI asked.

Qian Suxun answered: “We’ve already attempted several strikes against the replicants they send in, but every time we succeed, their mycelial memory cores self-destruct. We can’t recover any data from them.”

“Disgusting,” came a voice—two, actually.

Both Fire Bro and Xiao Qing, who had been silent until now, finally spoke.

Fire Bro crossed his arms, eyes full of anger. “They torture their own kind and use these vile tactics. Do they really think the dark creatures would ever see them as equals?”

“Not a chance,” Mochizuki said flatly. “They’re deluding themselves. You know what the Deep Crimson World’s ultimate goal is?”

Everyone turned to him.

“Integration.” Mochizuki narrowed his eyes and smiled. “They believe they can create a new race—one that possesses eternal life and can exist within the dark dimension.”

“They want to become dark entities?!” KIKI looked horrified.

“Oh… I get it now…” Qian Dele muttered.

Monica followed up. “Don’t forget—they don’t even consider those things to be Eerie Entities.”

“Abilities, gene evolution, dimensional breakthrough…” Chen Sixuan nodded, her expression grave. “To them, it’s ‘ascension to godhood.’”

“F*ing idiots.”** A soft but distinct voice broke the tension.

Everyone turned to see A Bai awkwardly sipping tea, shrinking into his chair after realizing he’d spoken aloud. He clearly hadn’t expected his muttering to be heard.

Lin Xian chuckled, then turned back to Mochizuki Shinji.

“Inner Tides, time constraints, high-risk zones, and the self-destructing memory cores—we can deal with those. So let’s talk about the Crimson Skeletal Horror.”

He’d heard this name several times since entering, and his curiosity was piqued.

“You can deal with them all?” Qian Suxun asked in disbelief. “We’ve been stuck for months trying to figure them out. And you solve it in thirty minutes?”

Mochizuki held up a hand to silence him and spoke directly to Lin Xian:

“The Crimson Skeletal Horror is simple.” “I mentioned earlier—the Deep Crimson researchers are implanted into ability users via memory and mycelial converters. But the Crimson Skeletal Horror is created from mutated human Eerie Entities, combined with a special suppressor device. I don’t think they intended for this to happen… but it’s become a huge problem for them.”

Lin Xian’s pupils shrank violently. He stood up at once, hairs on end, voice raised:

“You mean the Deep Crimson World has been implanting flesh with Eerie Entities!?!”

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