Translator: AnubisTL
"Huh?"
The password really was eight eights. Biaozi stared blankly at the diary in his hand, watching the pale yellow question mark on its cover gradually transform into a green exclamation mark.
A panel materialized before everyone's eyes:
[Mission 34: Zhang Yi completed.]
Zhang Yi, standing nearby, grinned happily, scratching the back of his head in a slightly flustered manner. He pulled his younger brother into a hug, realizing at that moment that there was something even more satisfying than stuffing things into the refrigerator: using his brain.
He made a decision. On his return, he wouldn't just focus on physical training in the Combat Training Virtual Space; he'd also study his mind. He had a natural talent for it, and he couldn't let it go to waste.
"Hurry, look, look!"
Old Pig rushed over, and the group gathered around the diary, meticulously flipping through its pages from the beginning, afraid of missing anything.
April 27, 7257: Today is my 27th birthday. I don't know what to do. The factory director found me and hinted that if I agreed to marry his daughter, he would pass his position on to me.
But the factory director knows I have a girlfriend, and he knows how deeply I love her.
In my eyes, true love is something you can only hope to find.
This is a difficult decision. Starting today, I will use this diary to record my life.
April 28, 7257: I've made up my mind. I broke up with my girlfriend. She cried so bitterly, and I felt heartbroken too. I fear I may have made the wrong choice, missing out on someone who truly loved me.
April 29, 7257: I married the factory director's daughter at the factory. The factory director seemed anxious. I don't understand why, but even at his daughter's wedding, he could barely smile, only urging us to hurry up and have a child.
April 30, 7257: The factory director has gone mad. Last night, he slipped me a love potion. His daughter and I made love seven times throughout the night. When I woke up this morning, I felt like I was dying. I don't understand what the factory director is trying to achieve.
May 1, 7257: I've become the factory director.
May 2, 7257: Being the factory director is great, except the old man keeps pressuring me to sleep with his daughter. I feel a strange, unknown fear.
May 18, 7257: I'm gradually learning how to manage the factory. But for some reason, orders have suddenly plummeted. We're a military factory. For centuries, the Mechanical Civilization and the Zerg have been at war, and we've always had a constant stream of orders for weapons. Could the war be ending?
May 31, 7257: Orders are dwindling further. The war really is about to stop. I hope it continues! Another few centuries would be perfect. I've only just become the factory director and haven't even made any money yet!
June 15, 7257: Now that I'm the factory director, I've thoroughly humiliated the old employees in the processing department who used to give me a hard time. Heh heh, it feels great. But I've never actually been to the processing department. That's where I met and fell in love with my ex-girlfriend. I'm afraid I might regret my current decisions.
June 15, 7257: No regrets. My life now is like living in the divine realm compared to before. Why would I regret it? I woke up late this morning, so I won't write in my diary in the mornings anymore.
June 30, 7257: I'm starting to fear my current wife. She comes to my room several times a day. When I ask her why, she says her father told her to. Could her father be a pervert? Did he plant cameras in my room? Does he enjoy watching his daughter being...?
July 1, 7257: I thoroughly checked my room. There are no cameras. But my father-in-law came again today, urging me with an urgent tone, as if he wanted me to do it right in front of him. I suspect my father-in-law is hiding a lot from me.
August 13, 7257: The 'Giant Gear Assembly' at the factory broke down today. The factory's maintenance crew couldn't fix it, so I hired a professional repairman from outside. While he was working, his wife brought him lunch. I recognized her instantly—it was the woman I'd been longing for. When our eyes met, she quickly looked away. For some reason, the moment I saw her, I wanted to abandon everything I have now and embrace her again.
August 13, 7257: I drank too much. I'm probably drunk. I regret it. I truly regret it. She's still so gentle. What's so good about being the factory director? If I could do it all over again, I'd choose her, not the factory director title. But it's too late. I can feel it—she still loves me. She still loves me.
September 1, 7257: I built a secret room behind the factory director's office. The south wall is one-way glass. I started calling the maintenance worker in to fix equipment from time to time. While he was working, I'd bring his wife into the secret room to "repair" her.
Everything seemed unchanged.
Yet, something had subtly shifted.
She had changed.
She had become somewhat coy, her moral compass telling her this was wrong, but the love between us made her enjoy it nonetheless. I was furious, venting my jealousy. I was the factory director, and he was just a damn maintenance worker.
Why did he get to openly possess the woman I loved?
The thought that I could only have her in secret, while that lowly maintenance worker could have her openly, filled me with rage. Jealousy almost drove me to strangle her.
September 10, 7257: She's gradually relaxed a lot. From being too afraid to even look at her husband while he was repairing equipment, she's now leaning against the glass, staring directly at him. I've never seen this side of her before.
She used to be so loyal.
I never imagined she would ever do that, nor did I expect her to look so alluring while doing it.
I feel like I'm sick. I think I'm becoming perverted.
September 30, 7257: The factory hasn't received any orders for seven consecutive days. For some reason, my father-in-law isn't pressuring me about it anymore. The news on TV reports that the Mechanical Civilization seems to be advancing rapidly, winning battle after battle. My father-in-law must have been deeply affected by this. He's been drinking heavily every day, and today, in front of everyone at the factory, he raped a female employee.
Has he gone mad?
He's acting like someone who's had a massive memory chip implanted all at once, causing his memories to become scrambled.
If he had such needs, he could have just told me. I would have let him use my secret chamber.
Thank goodness I managed to keep the news contained within the factory. If it had leaked out, he would have gone to prison.
"October 11, 7257": I've figured out how to sabotage the 'Giant Gear Assembly' so that it breaks beyond the factory workers' ability to repair it without causing major problems. All it takes is seven strikes with a hammer on the intake vent, followed by three strikes on the exhaust vent. I'm a genius!
"November 10, 7257": Winter has arrived, and my father-in-law has grown increasingly deranged. I haven't slept with my wife in ages. She seems resentful, but I don't care. The only woman I've ever loved, from beginning to end, is someone else.
I've been calling maintenance almost every day lately.
I'm finding it harder and harder to resist this affair.
In fact...
The initial inner turmoil and struggle have faded. Now, I revel in the moment. I savor her allure during our secret rendezvous, a charm I've never witnessed before. I savor this instant.
Everyone around me seems to have gone mad, but I'm utterly content.
"November 15, 7257": The factory hasn't received any orders in two months. It might be on the verge of collapse. Today, something major happened: the Mechanical Civilization suddenly changed its calendar.
This is so strange.
The Mechanical Civilization's calendar has always been 365 days a year.
The war against the Zerg had been raging long before I was born, lasting nearly 296 years. I was already used to seeing news reports about the Mechanical Civilization winning another victory.
Then the Supreme Leader appeared on screen and changed all the databases. From then on, the Mechanical Civilization's calendar would count each day as a year. What kind of ridiculous calendar system is that?
What civilization has a year that's only 24 hours long?
The Mechanical Civilization had existed for nearly 7,258 years, using the same calendar almost the entire time. Why would they suddenly change it without any warning?
But the Supreme Leader had spoken, so we had no choice but to obey.
Year 2649170: Yes, this morning when the display screen automatically switched to this new calendar, I was so disoriented that I almost thought I'd time-traveled. What a huge number! Last night, the entire Mechanical Civilization's database calendar had been modified.
Previously, the war between the Mechanical Civilization and the Zerg had lasted 295 years, nearly 296.
The result:
The war had now been raging for 107,991 years.
Nearly 110,000 years!
This was insane. What were they even trying to achieve? Such a massive number meant I'd have to write multiple digits in my diary every day. It was distorting my sense of the calendar. How would I even calculate my age anymore? Would I age a year every day?
Could this be the Leader's solution to the residents' short lifespans?
Well, it certainly worked.
2649171: Today's news was quite amusing. Many people were lining up to apply for retirement benefits, brandishing their resident cards showing they were over 10,000 years old. It was quite a sight.
And then there was my father-in-law. He had completely lost his mind.
After raping another employee, he drunkenly pointed his finger at my nose and called me a useless waste. He said I couldn't even produce a child and that I was doomed. Only newborns had a chance of survival; everyone else was destined to die.
He claimed he'd chosen me because of my strong back, which he thought would make me fertile.
His insults were vile.
I was furious. If I hadn't cleaned up his mess today, the Law Enforcement Bureau would have arrested him for rape and negligence of military orders!
2749173: Life was becoming increasingly dull and lacking excitement. Today, while we were secretly meeting in the hidden chamber, she whispered that her husband might have discovered our affair.
She said that during their intimate moment last night, her husband had remained silent for a long time before abruptly stopping and falling asleep.
Life had suddenly become thrilling again.
Anyway, I had money. Even if we were caught, I could easily buy my way out.
"That's it?"
Biaozi looked at the final page with a lingering sense of dissatisfaction. "It felt like reading a novel. I really wanted to know what happened next. Why would he just stop writing here? That's like abandoning a story halfway through—it's just plain irresponsible."
"He couldn't have any more kids!" Old Pig retorted, rolling his eyes at Biaozi. "Didn't you hear him? The Mechanical Civilization and the Zerg fought for 107,991 years, and the Mechanical Civilization was destroyed after 108,000 years. That means when he finished his last diary entry, the Mechanical Civilization only had five years left before its demise."
"Oh."
"Actually, it was five days."
"Before its collapse, the Mechanical Civilization changed its calendar. They probably thought it wouldn't sound good if news of their destruction spread and people learned the Zerg had wiped them out in just over 200 years. Ten thousand eight thousand years sounds much more impressive."
"In my opinion, they were being too conservative. It should have been one hour per year."
"That would make it 2.5 million years before they were wiped out. Such a long, drawn-out war suggests a powerful civilization, evenly matched in strength."
"In the final days, this guy was discovered and killed by the repairman and his wife. That's the whole story."
"Wang Ziru is a real piece of work," Biaozi sighed, shaking his head in disgust.
"The repairman was just an honest, hardworking man. What did he do to deserve this? His entire family is about to be wiped out. If this guy finds out, he won't even be able to die in peace. Maybe it's better to keep it a secret. No one will know, and he can enjoy his last few days before dying peacefully. That way, his death will be swift and painless, right?"
"There are two types of people I despise most in this world: freeloaders and cheaters."
"This beast is both."
"Disgusting!"
"Disgusting my ass! They just praised you, and you've already lost your mind again." Old Pig smacked Biaozi on the head with his notebook and strode ahead. "What are we here for? To be film critics? Why don't you go write a long review on Douban?" TL: Chinese equivalent of Goodreads, IMDb, Rotten Tomatoes, and Reddit all in one.
"Hurry up and finish the mission! We're running out of time!"
"Right, right, right."
Biaozi hurried to catch up. "I got a little too engrossed in the story. Let's go, let's go! And I never go to Douban. Don't insult me like that."
Soon, the group reached the core area of the factory. Biaozi picked up a soft mallet from the ground and handed it to Old Pig. "Trainmaster Zhu, seven taps on the intake port, three on the exhaust port. You do it, right?"
"Why are you giving it to me? You do it yourself."
"No, you do it. I've been performing too well lately. I've completed too many missions. I don't want to do any more. It feels a bit too showy."
"..."
Old Pig took the soft hammer without expression and stood before the massive gear assembly. He took a deep breath and swung, striking the left side seven times and the right side three times.
The next moment—
[Mission 35: Old Pig completed.]
"Just one mission left."
He glanced at his watch. "We have 37 minutes. Everyone, spread out and find the final mission! Our success hinges on this!"
Inside the locomotive cabin, Chen Mang watched the nearly a thousand Tier 17 zombies surrounding the train. The train's Tier 18 armor held them at bay, but the Doomsday Cannon, which he'd been reluctant to use, finally roared to life, precisely targeting and eliminating the zombies one by one.
Meanwhile, the Viper Drone Fighters in the air continued their relentless assault.
These zombies dropped no items upon death, not even corpse meat.
"Whew..."
Chen Mang glanced at the progress bar and the Countdown on the control panel screen, letting out a sigh of relief. Thirty-seven minutes remained, and only one mission stood between them and victory!
Damn it!
This was the most challenging fortuitous encounter map he'd ever faced, bar none!
The no-fly zone, which fortunately only applied to the train, had been a major setback. If it had restricted his unmanned fighter jets as well, he wouldn't have been able to use that tactic.
But with ample time remaining, he was confident they would succeed this time.
He chuckled, lit a cigarette, and leaned back in his chair, his tightly wound nerves finally relaxing slightly. Only then did he begin to carefully examine the diary entries that had appeared on the screen.
This diary actually concealed a wealth of information.
For example:
The claim made by the light curtain when the second stage opened—that the Mechanical Civilization had fought for 108,000 years before finally declaring complete defeat—was utter nonsense. On the verge of defeat, their final act wasn't to reveal the truth to their people, but to alter their calendar.
This line of thinking was fascinating.
It was something a normal person would never conceive of.
It was like being hit by a car and, instead of calling for help, frantically deleting your browser history. It was as if reputation mattered more than life itself, even posthumously—a stubborn insistence on preserving one's legacy.
Why would a civilization's defeat lead to such a catastrophic collapse?
Just days before the Mechanical Civilization's defeat, this factory had been completely unaware of the situation. How could everyone have died instantly the moment they lost? Even if their defenses had been breached, with so many Inhabited Planets, the Zerg would have had to slaughter them slowly, planet by planet. There was no way they could have been wiped out in an instant.
So fast?
He naturally believed the Mechanical Civilization's news reports of great victories were true—it was just that the Zerg had won far more battles, which went unreported.
Poor Mechanical Civilization.
What good people.
Even after their entire civilization was wiped out, they still passed down their methods, giving these civilizations, whose Civilization Levels were far too low to leave their planet, a fighting chance against the Zerg invasion.
He also learned something else: even in the Mechanical Civilization, humans seemed to be the dominant species, with robots forming a minority, or perhaps not even holding a leading position.
Chen Mang shook his head, smiling without dwelling on it.
He stubbed out his nearly extinguished cigarette and stuck it into an empty Cola can.
He no longer had the heart to mourn the Mechanical Civilization. He felt that in a few years, he might have to start mourning human civilization as well. Poor human civilization.
Even a fully operational Mechanical Civilization couldn't withstand the Zerg!
How could human civilization, having inherited only fragments of the Mechanical Civilization's methods, possibly hold out against the Zerg? When a Zerg army—even a small detachment of regular forces—arrived at Aquablue Star, they would be utterly annihilated. The Zerg on Aquablue Star were probably not even considered vanguard troops, but rather irregular forces.
However—
The Mechanical Civilization didn't seem to have his Tier 0 Authority.
"..."
He glanced at the birthmark on his left hand—the character "Mang." If human civilization could survive the Zerg, the only hope lay in his Tier 0 Authority, which allowed for infinite upgrades, provided he had enough resources.
He alone could stand against the entire Zerg Civilization!
After all, in theory, he could upgrade his armor to Tier 999. No matter how powerful the Zerg were, could they possibly field a Tier 999 monster?
It was utterly unreasonable!
He would become invincible!
He needed to gather resources faster, or everyone on Aquablue Star would die!
Once he had grown strong enough and formally rebuilt human civilization, he would reduce the Zerg Civilization to the brink of extinction, then cage them in a zoo.
Time continued to pass, and the composure on Chen Mang's face gradually faded.
At this moment—
The zombies outside the train had reached Tier 18. The copper ore was completely depleted, and the energy stones for the Fighter Jets had long been exhausted. He had already replaced them four times, each Tier 4 Energy Stone costing 500,000 credits.
With a total of 41 Fighter Jets, each replacement cost 20.5 million credits.
Four replacements totaled 80 million credits!
The train only had 60 million units of iron ore left, and it was all used up. The extra 20 million units came from Neon City, originally intended for other train conductors' stellar coupons.
He had diverted them.
Neon City wouldn't reopen for another week, so he wasn't worried about covering the shortfall in the short term.
But the crisis was far more severe than he'd anticipated!
A thousand Tier 18 zombies!
If the train hadn't been equipped with Tier 18 armor, it wouldn't have stood a chance. Even with it, killing them all in fifteen minutes would be a struggle. The Viper Drone Fighter's Tier 20 cannon could pierce their defenses, but its effectiveness had diminished as the zombies' Tier increased.
Failure would be declared if they failed to eliminate all the zombies within the time limit.
Four minutes remained.
He glanced out the window at the remaining 400-plus Tier 18 zombies and rasped, his voice strained with a hint of unease, "Xiao Ai, send Zhang Yi and Zhang Er out to fight. We can't handle this alone."
"Tell everyone," he continued, "including the five-minute rest period, we have at most nine minutes left. If we haven't found the final mission within nine minutes, this operation is a failure!"
He hadn't expected this.
Nearly half an hour had passed, and not only had he failed to complete the final mission, he hadn't even found it.
Time was running out.
The next wave of 1,000 Tier 19 zombies would be impossible for the Stellaris to withstand. They were completely out of ammunition and supplies!
Empty.
Even the wealthy had run out of reserves.
Neon City had only stored about 20 million units of iron ore, and most people had exchanged their stellar coupons for iron ore before leaving. All 20 million units had already been used.
In other words, both Neon City and the Stellaris were now completely empty!
The train had only 120,000 units of iron ore left.
"Hurry... hurry, hurry!"
Chen Mang glanced at the swarming zombies outside the locomotive cabin and the Zhang Brothers piloting the Pope Mecha out of the factory. He turned to the control panel screen, watching Biaozi and the others' progress as he muttered,
"Eight minutes left.
Only eight minutes!"
"No, no!" Biaozi slapped himself repeatedly, his eyes bloodshot and his voice hoarse. "I can't calm down to think! My mind's a mess! Eight minutes left... what do I do? What do I do?"
The Stellaris had been under constant bombardment since the beginning. This assault had nearly depleted the resources the ship had accumulated over several days.
"If we fail and return empty-handed, we're finished!"
Just then—
"Shut up!"
Old Pig, his face grim, cut Biaozi off. He looked at everyone and said, word by word, "Time is short. Stop wasting words."
"We've searched every corner of the factory, and we can confirm that we haven't found the final mission. But have you noticed that these thirty-five missions are all connected?"
"They form a narrative."
"They tell us what happened in this mechanical factory."
"Including Li Shiji's first mission, the security guard standing in the security room. He was once a soldier but was discharged for making a mistake. Despite becoming a security guard, he never accepted his fate. He still considered himself a soldier, always wearing his soldier's dog tag and rarely speaking to anyone."
"Each mission is a story. When pieced together, the entire story becomes complete, with no gaps."
"It's like a jigsaw puzzle that's already been fully assembled."
"If you spent a long time putting together a jigsaw puzzle, what would you do with it!?"
"You don't even need to answer. I'll tell you: frame it!"
"That's right! How did I not think of that sooner? Frame it!"
Old Pig had been struggling to come up with a solution, hoping to gather ideas from the crowd while he sorted through his thoughts. But as he spoke, the answer seemed to dawn on him. His expression growing increasingly excited, he snatched up his walkie-talkie and shouted into it.
"President Ai, get that novel-writing boy here immediately! And hurry! I need him here in 8 minutes! Hurry, hurry!"
He'd figured it out! The final mission was to frame it! That's right, frame it!
Each of the thirty-six missions corresponded to a story, and each story could be linked together. After completing the first thirty-five missions, the narrative was complete. The final step was to record the entire story, compile it, and organize it. This was the last mission!
"Hurry!" Old Pig shoved Biaozi urgently. "Go to the factory entrance and bring that boy here as quickly as possible! Then rush to the factory director's office!"
The factory director's computer was the only one in the entire factory that could be used.
The computer had been powered down, but after completing one of the missions and repairing the generator, it was now operational again.
However, no software could be opened.
The desktop displayed only a blank document.
At the time, he'd thought it might be a clue, but it had never proved useful. Now, it was clear: it wasn't a clue at all, but a mission.
"Everyone, quiet! Shut up!"
In the factory director's Office, Xiao Ai quickly summarized the events that had transpired in the factory, the text appearing as a floating display on the boy's Iris Chip.
The boy sat before the computer, his face slightly tense. His fingers flew across the keyboard, typing at lightning speed, his mind unable to keep up. He simply followed the words on his Iris Chip, entering them one by one into the blank document.
Across the entire Stellaris train, this boy was the fastest typist. Even Xiao Ai's mechanical fingers couldn't match his dexterity.
With time running out, their only hope rested on this boy.
Old Pig covered his mouth, breathing only through his nose, afraid his rapid breaths would disrupt the boy's concentration. He glanced at the Countdown on the Iris Chip: only seven minutes left.
President Ai's summary was 1,523 characters long.
Seven minutes, 1,500 characters!
For those freaks, this speed wasn't hard to achieve. In pre-apocalypse shorthand competitions, some people could type 800 characters per minute. But in real life, 1,500 characters in seven minutes was still an absurdly high number.
Completely impossible!
Everyone stood behind the young man, eyes glued to the computer screen, even daring not to breathe too deeply. After he typed 250 characters, a pale yellow question mark slowly appeared on the screen.
Just as expected!
This was the final mission!
The final mission was to frame the previous thirty-five missions!
Six minutes left.
A flicker of hope flashed in Old Pig's eyes. He'd already typed 250 characters in a minute; at this rate, he'd easily finish. But just then—
Perhaps due to nerves, or perhaps because he was typing too fast—
A red typo appeared on the screen and began flashing. The young man was completely focused on the Iris Chip and hadn't even glanced at the screen. But after the typo appeared, the characters he typed afterward didn't show up. He had to correct the typo before he could continue typing.
"Typo! Typo! Correct the typo!"
Old Pig urged urgently, "Look at the screen and fix the typo!"
This delay wasted several precious seconds.
In this critical moment, wasting even a few seconds was an absolute waste.
"10"
"9"
"8"
Old Pig's body trembled as he stared at the countdown on the Iris Chip. Only 78 characters left! Hurry!
Never in his life had he been so emotionally invested in just 78 characters!
"7"
"6"
"5"
Only 27 characters remaining.
Biaozi clenched his fists so tightly that his nails dug into his flesh, but he felt no pain. His eyes were glued to the computer screen. Five seconds, 27 characters—charge! This was the final step, just a little further!
They were so close to success.
"4"
"3"
"2"
Only seven characters left!
Two seconds was more than enough!
"1"
"0"
As the countdown reached zero, the young man slumped back in his chair, his body limp. He turned to face Old Pig and the others standing behind him, his fingers trembling as he forced a smile. "Trainmaster Zhu, I did it."
"We did it!"
"Why aren't you smiling?"
The young man's smile faltered as he saw the ashen faces of Biaozi and the others. A terrifying possibility flashed through his mind. He turned with difficulty to look at the computer screen, where a red character was flashing repeatedly.
With only two characters left, he had made a typo.
The countdown had ended.
The mission had failed.
The young man's face instantly turned deathly pale as he froze in place. Trembling, he corrected the typo and completed the final character. But the countdown had already ended. Even if he finished now, it was too late.
Everyone stood frozen in place, their faces ashen.
Outside the window, the roar of zombies echoed through the air. This time, the zombies' roars were much deeper and more resonant than before.
"Come back," Lord Mang's slightly weary voice echoed in their ears. "You've done more than enough. The mission failed, but the fault lies not with us, but with fate."
"We were so close to winning."
"Just a bit short on luck."
"Fate may not always favor the Stellaris, but you all performed admirably this time. With you aboard, the Stellaris will surely go far."
"Come back now. It's too late to stay any longer. Everyone here will die if we don't leave."
*
Inside the Stellaris' locomotive cabin, Chen Mang sat silently in his chair, gazing out at the thousand Tier 19 zombies slowly surrounding the train.
He had been waiting for a miracle to happen.
He had even imagined countless times how he would react when the miracle finally arrived. He would leap up in excitement and joy, throw a grand celebration banquet in Neon City, and offer heartfelt blessings to everyone who had contributed to the miracle. But fate had not favored him this time.
Just a few seconds more, and the Heavenly Balance would have tipped the other way.
People yearn for miracles because, perhaps, they mostly exist in other people's stories, never gracing their own lives.
Everyone hopes a miracle will happen to them, only to discover at the story's end that such luxuries are not for everyone.
The Viper Drone Fighters had run out of ammunition, and the copper ore was depleted.
They were completely out of supplies.
They could still squeeze out a bit of iron ore, perhaps by cannibalizing the refrigerator or devouring several carriages, including Carriage 15. Or they could try to buy a batch of iron ore at a premium from Neon City, but... it was all futile now.
Most importantly, their Armor Tier was too low!
Nine cannons and forty-one unmanned fighter jets were insufficient to suppress the firepower of a thousand Tier 19 zombies. Many zombies would charge through the barrage, engaging the train in close combat. The train's armor couldn't withstand such a relentless assault.
Unless they immediately declared surrender and retreat, the Stellaris, which had already gained some recognition, might end up buried here, unsung and forgotten.
All 6,000 residents of the Stellaris, including Chen Mang, were doomed to die.
"Train Conductor..."
Xiao Ai, standing nearby, opened his mouth to speak but couldn't find the words. He realized he didn't know how to comfort people. Lord Mang had always been so confident and never needed consolation. Now, when he truly needed it, Xiao Ai found himself speechless.
In the distance, the horde of zombies advanced slowly, forming a tightening encirclement around the Stellaris.
"It's fine," Chen Mang said, lighting a cigarette and casually tossing the lighter onto the table. After a moment of silence, he murmured, "I've failed many times in my life, but I've always managed to pick myself back up. That's why I'm not afraid of failure."
"Failure is the norm in life; success is only occasional."
"We haven't lost anything significant. It's just a loss of resources. Tell everyone to return quickly. As long as the green hills remain, there's no need to worry about firewood."
"Prepare to retreat."
"He's just the heir to a Mechanical Civilization. I don't really care that much."
Just then—
"Lord Mang!"
Biaozi burst through the door, his eyes bloodshot and his voice hoarse with desperation. "It's not a complete failure yet! If we can survive this wave and kill all these Tier 19 zombies within the time limit, we still succeed in our mission!"
"We haven't lost yet!"
"All guards, request permission to engage!"
"Kill them all?" Chen Mang raised his eyelids and glanced at Biaozi, his voice soft.
"The iron ore is depleted."
"The copper ore is depleted."
"We've used up everything we had. We have no cards left to play. It's time to leave the table."
"That's a thousand Tier 19 zombies. Even the strongest monsters in the Red Zone are only Tier 18. These are monsters you only encounter in the Golden Zone. How do you expect to kill a thousand of them in fifteen minutes?"
"Rely on Zhang Yi and Zhang Er's two Pope Mecha?"
"Rely on you? You can't even break their defenses."
"Calm down. Don't act like the world is ending just because you failed once. This isn't like before, where failure meant death. The Stellaris can afford to lose. That's what Foundation is all about—having the resources to start over after a setback."
"Prepare to go home."
After speaking, Chen Mang shook his head without saying much. He glanced at the zombie horde closing in to form a complete encirclement, preparing to abandon the fortuitous encounter map and leave.
"There's a chance!" Biaozi shouted urgently, his voice strained with desperation. "Lord Mang, there's a chance! Don't you remember how you killed those rabbits last time? Use the space gate! Use the space gate to kill these zombies!"
"These zombies are the same size as normal ones. The train can easily accommodate them."
"As long as we kill this batch of zombies, we'll win!"
"The mission hasn't completely failed yet!"
"Space gate?" Chen Mang tilted his head, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Last time, there were only a few rabbits. Here, there are a thousand zombies. And I only have one chance. 'Space Stasis' can't be used twice in quick succession."
"Are you suggesting we bring a thousand Tier 19 zombies inside the Stellaris?"
"Do you think all the zombies will blindly rush inside the Stellaris? Or will they stay outside and attack the Train Armor? Will you lure them in, or should I?"
"In that case, everyone will die."
But soon the smile on his face gradually froze. He understood what Biaozi meant. Glancing at the approaching horde of zombies and Biaozi's fervent gaze, filled with both resentment and pleading, he paused for a moment, sighed softly, and picked up the walkie-talkie on the table.
To be honest, he felt a pang of resentment too.
This plan was risky, but if it succeeded, this wouldn't be a failure—it would be a desperate comeback.
"All train residents, immediately enter Neon City!"
"Guards, all members listen up! Follow your captain's orders. Disembark!"
Chen Mang's voice echoed throughout the Stellaris.
Biaozi, kneeling on the ground, immediately scrambled to his feet. His bloodshot eyes met Lord Mang's, and he grinned, his voice hoarse as he said, "Lord Mang, thank you for taking this gamble. The Stellaris will never lose."
"Not in the past, not now, not ever."
"The Stellaris is invincible!"
With that, he strode out of the locomotive cabin, where the three squad captains had already gathered.
"Follow my orders!"
Biaozi took the briefcase Wildcat handed him and shouted, "Lure all the zombies into the carriages! Not a single one must escape!"
The next moment—
As the zombies were about to surround the Stellaris train, it sprang into action. All its doors swung open, unguarded, and the residents had already retreated to Neon City at lightning speed. Once "Space Stasis" ended, they would return to push the zombies inside the carriages through the space gates.
"It seems we really can't afford to lose," Chen Mang muttered, lighting a cigarette and gazing at Biaozi and his crew charging down the train, as well as the approaching zombie horde. He could accept failure, but the people below seemed willing to die rather than accept the Stellaris train's defeat.
At some point, the Stellaris train had become the sole faith for many in this apocalypse. They couldn't bear to see their faith crumble.
The Stellaris train wouldn't lose.
Even if it did, they would die before it.
If that was the case, then they had to take a gamble. The odds of failure were high, but the chance of success wasn't negligible.
"Xiao Ai, assess the success rate of this plan."
"100%."
"Tsk."
Chen Mang sat back in his chair, taking 112,000 units of iron ore from the remaining 120,000 units to forge two brand-new Tier 10 "Space Gates." He glanced at the "Absolute Defense" train skill on the control panel screen and chuckled softly.
"You've learned to lie."
"I'm not lying. The Stellaris train won't lose."
"May your words come true. But... we have only 14 minutes left. We need to hurry."
Chen Mang glanced at the control panel screen, quickly scanning the train's remaining Foundation, and murmured softly.
"Since everyone wants to witness a miracle..."
"Then—"
"Let's give this miracle a grand and glorious entrance."
(End of the Chapter)
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