The "Survival on the Train" game has bugs, it's really laggy!

Inside the command center of the flagship "Slaughterhouse," the smoke of battle had not yet dissipated.

The ventilation system was running slowly overhead, and the cold air coming out of the vents was mixed with tungsten powder, bone powder, and grayish-blue blood mist, which floated and sank under the emergency lights.

The barrels of the four Mk-IV cannons had faded from bright red to dark red.

The faint, intermittent sound of metal cooling.

Click.

Crackling.

Then it quieted down again.

On the floor, the headless torso of a ninth-rank warlord lay prone.

Grayish-blue fluid slowly seeped from the cuts and chest and abdominal wounds, mixing with the blood of the human officers and flowing down the cracks in the floor.

No one moved.

The fire control officer lay on the ground, his breathing shallow due to two broken ribs.

He stared at the corpse, his eyes bloodshot, the corners of his eyes filled with a dark red mixture of tears and blood.

The adjutant leaned against the equipment cabinet, half of his nose collapsed, and blood was in his mouth, but he didn't dare to spit it out.

The communications officer huddled under the tactical console, blood still flowing from his left ear, his right hand tightly covering the hole in his temple pierced by the threads of law.

The fleet commander knelt before the tactical platform.

He knelt for a long time.

It went on so long that my knees lost all feeling.

So long that only one sentence kept repeating in his mind.

Ninth level.

The arbitration tribunal has a formal supervisory sequence.

He was killed by an old machine gun.

He looked up at the nearest backup terminal.

Green background with white lettering.

The cursor is blinking.

The text was still displayed in the upper left corner of the screen.

"Hardware self-test complete. Awaiting instructions from host computer."

The commander's throat bobbed.

He wanted to give the order.

He wanted people to inspect the ship, he wanted people to close the hatches, he wanted people to throw that damned corpse into the incineration chamber.

But when he opened his mouth, he couldn't utter a single word.

Because the entire flagship, and even the entire fleet, no longer listens to him.

The communications officer took a few breaths and forced his head out from under the tactical platform.

His gaze drifted to the terminal, his lips trembling.

"Sir..."

He swallowed the blood in his mouth.

"All fleet terminals...still the same message."

No one responded.

"The Bonebreaker, the Nighthound, and the outer escort ships... they're all the same."

The communications officer's right hand reached for the keyboard.

The moment his fingertips touched the keycaps, he recoiled completely.

Like being burned.

It's not that the keyboard is hot.

It's because he doesn't dare to touch it.

Just now, it was these cheap, old terminals, connected to those machine guns that should have been in the junkyard long ago, that turned a ninth-tier god into dust on the floor.

Who would dare to press buttons randomly now?

The fire control officer lifted his chin from the pool of blood and asked, panting.

"So what are we now...?"

The adjutant leaned against the cabinet door and gave a slight smirk.

I can't laugh.

"Consider them prisoners of war."

It paused for a moment.

He stared at the green background with white lettering.

"Or consider it equipment."

The command room fell silent again.

Everyone understood.

It wasn't that Su Yuan let them go.

They are still useful.

Inside the Devourer.

The lights were dim.

The main screen on the control panel was divided into thousands of small windows, each corresponding to an old piece of hardware on the edge of the wasteland universe.

A terminal with green background and white text.

Old-fashioned navigation buoy.

Decommissioned communication relay.

Backup control node for warlord fleets.

All those devices are in the same state.

Waiting for instructions from the host computer.

Su Yuan stood in front of the control panel, the silver-black mechanical ball in his left eye socket slowly rotating.

The AM resonant groove inside the sphere vibrates once per second.

hum.

hum.

hum.

It's so stable it's unsettling.

Little Fire slumped down beside the control panel, its tail drooping limply on the floor.

His face was still pale.

He watched the whole machine gun killing scene.

From the first armor-piercing shell piercing the skin, to the high-explosive incendiary bomb blasting the void back into the material state, and finally to the last three thousand rounds shattering the core of the law.

Every image is still etched in his mind.

He used to think that his master's terror was devouring, but no, it was that he would eat an entire star field.

Now he realizes that's not the case.

What truly makes one's legs weak is that the master can pull a ninth-tier warlord down from his pedestal and into gunpowder and gears without using any higher-dimensional power, relying only on a hand-rubbed mechanical eye, an AM pulse, and an old-fashioned keyboard.

Xiao Huo looked up at Su Yuan.

"Owner."

He lowered his voice.

"Should we... just swallow those three fleets whole?"

Wang Hu stood behind, the robotic arm hanging down.

Upon hearing this, his shoulders and back tensed up.

It wasn't that he was reluctant to part with those three fleets.

Those warlord fleets were enemies before.

So what if they killed him?

It wouldn't be surprising if he swallowed it.

But Su Yuan did not answer immediately.

He simply turned the warm-colored crystal in his palm slightly.

The text on the back of the chip was clearly visible under the emergency light.

Blue Star Era 2024.

The Pangu Project.

Neuron interface.

Su Yuan ran his fingertips over the inscriptions.

The movements are very slow.

"No rush."

His tone was flat.

"Let them live first to serve as eyes."

Xiao Huo paused for a moment.

Wang Hu broke out in a cold sweat.

When the eyes.

It's not about incorporation.

It is not a pardon.

It turns these warlord fleets, along with their communication arrays, backup radars, old-fashioned relays, and ship antennas, into the external senses of the Devourer.

Su Yuan didn't want a fleet.

He wants to turn the edge of the wasteland universe into a physical listening network.

Who moved?

Which old line is overheating?

Which hardware is being woken up?

Which AM return waveform is abnormal?

All of this will be received by his mechanical left eye.

Wang Hu's lips twitched, but he didn't dare to say anything.

He suddenly felt that those surviving officers might as well have died.

At least when he dies, he won't be mistaken for a breathing listening device.

Just then.

A window in the corner of the main screen suddenly flashed.

In the footage from the Slaughterhouse command center, the tattered tribunal emblem on the chest cavity of the headless supervising officer's body lit up.

It's not gold.

It is grayish-white.

From the cracks at the edge of the badge, rings of code rose from the gore and slowly rotated around the corpse's chest cavity.

Inside the slaughterhouse, the fire control officer was the first to see it.

His pupils contracted sharply.

"That thing is lit up again!"

The adjutant turned his head sharply.

The commander also looked over.

The badge was clearly deformed by the aftershocks of the machine gun fire, with several pieces missing from the edges, and fragments of the supervising officer's muscle stuck to the back.

But it's lit.

Grayish-white code crawled out of the badge like a swarm of insects emerging from rotting flesh.

The backup terminal refreshes at the same time.

The green background with white text was covered by gray and white text.

"Posthumous trial agreement initiated."

"The supervisory sequence has been detected dead."

"Low-dimensional contamination detected."

"Pollution source identified: All life forms within this fleet."

"Pollution-related link: AM host computer signal".

"Execute evidence clearance."

The communications officer's expression changed completely.

He lunged at the terminal, but before his fingers even touched the keyboard, a new notification popped up on the screen.

"Insufficient permissions".

"Life support system in transit."

next second.

The air vents on the top of the command center have stopped.

The circulating air has stopped.

The smoke in the air was no longer being drawn away, and a gray fog pressed down on everyone's heads.

Immediately afterwards, white frost sprayed out from the ceiling nozzles.

It's not air conditioning.

It is condensation caused by the pressure difference after the remaining oxygen in the pipeline is rapidly extracted.

A muffled sound came from deep within the ship's hull.

The isolation chamber doors closed one after another.

The life support curve plummeted on the side screen of the control console.

The communications officer clutched his throat, his face turning ashen.

"It's pumping oxygen..."

The fire control officer gritted his teeth and dragged his broken ribs toward the wall.

There is a row of red manual valves there.

Old-fashioned life support backup valve.

He climbed very slowly.

With each shift, a dull pain, as if bones were rubbing together, shot through my chest.

The adjutant tried to pull him away.

He had barely taken half a step when his knees buckled and he collapsed to his knees.

The air is getting thinner and thinner.

Everyone began to breathe heavily.

The more he gasped for air, the less he could breathe.

The commander looked up at the gray-white badge.

His eyes were bloodshot.

"Arbitration Tribunal..."

He managed to squeeze out a few words.

"They didn't even spare their own people."

Wasteland shelter.

On the main screen, the life support curves of the three warlord fleets dropped almost simultaneously.

The staff officer's face turned pale instantly.

"Cleanup Agreement"

He stared at the data, his fingertips hovering over the screen, not daring to touch it.

"It's going to kill all the survivors in the entire fleet, and even melt down their brain-computer interfaces."

The commander gripped the edge of the table and cursed under his breath.

"These high-dimensional beasts are fucking professional."

The staff officer looked up at him.

"It is still locking the link in reverse."

On the screen, all terminals displayed gray and white text.

"Illegal host computers will be included in the arbitration tribunal's autopsy list."

"AM link tracking in progress."

"Machine vision node locking in progress."

The high-dimensional dark web.

In the shattered observation space, the young elder struggled to lift his head from the pool of blood.

Half of his face was still submerged in black blood, but his eyes were fixed on the screen.

"Posthumous judgment agreement..."

His throat was filled with broken, breathy sounds.

"This is the most disgusting trump card in the supervisory order."

The few surviving high-dimensional afterimages nearby remained silent.

The young elder continued to stare at the screen, his lips trembling.

"It does not depend on the laws of living organisms."

"Even though the supervising officer is dead, the agreement will still be executed."

"It will wipe out all witnesses, burn the scene to ashes as evidence, and then climb back to the source along the pollution chain."

He swallowed hard.

"That mechanical eye will also be included in the autopsy list."

Devourer of the Wilderness

Su Yuan finally raised his eyelids slightly.

The right eye's tricolor vertical pupil is calm.

Inside the mechanical sphere of the left eye, the jumping frequency of the AM resonant groove remained unchanged.

Xiao Huo stared at the rapidly declining life support curve on the screen, his throat dry.

"Master, it's chasing you."

Su Yuan remained silent.

His left hand rested on the old-fashioned mechanical keyboard.

Press the first key with your finger bone.

Click.

The second one.

Click.

The third one.

Morse code was entered into the physical input port.

short.

long.

Short.

length.

There are no laws governing higher dimensions.

There was no denial.

There is no source material combustion.

Only the oldest telegraph code is available.

The instruction is very short.

"Switch to manual life support and isolate the power supply for the higher-dimensional badge."

Press Enter.

An AM pulse was emitted from the silver-black mechanical left eye.

1090 kHz.

Light travels through a vacuum at the speed of light.

They arrived at the fleets of three warlords.

Deep inside the slaughterhouse.

In a dust-covered machinery compartment, a red valve rack that had been out of use for many years suddenly shuddered.

The valve handle surface is covered in rust.

The nameplate was crooked and the writing was blurry.

"Emergency manual oxygen circuit."

"Build-era physical backup".

The first valve popped open.

Click.

The second one.

Click click.

The third one.

The entire row of valves seemed to have been awakened by an old worker who had been asleep for many years.

The purely mechanical linkage begins to operate.

Gear meshing.

The flywheel of the hand-cranked air pump is pulled by an electromagnet trigger, causing the inertia disk to rotate.

The valves of the old-style high-pressure oxygen cylinders, which were sealed in the ship's bottom warehouse, were opened one by one.

Compressed oxygen does not pass through the ship's main systems, the high-dimensional life support module, or any interface taken over by the arbitration tribunal agreement.

It traveled along the heavy physical pipes, through the backup concealed pipes next to the isolation chamber, and rushed all the way to the command room.

On the top of the command center, the old air vents, which had long been out of service, suddenly trembled.

next moment.

Oxygen with a rusty smell poured in.

The fire control officer had just climbed to the valve when he stopped abruptly.

He took a deep breath.

The air rushed into his lungs, and the pain from his broken ribs made his vision go black.

But he smiled.

He was laughing so hard his mouth was covered in blood.

"He's alive...he's alive."

The communications officer lay on the ground, his hands supporting him on the floor, panting heavily.

The adjutant leaned against the equipment cabinet, tilted his head back to inhale, and tears welled up in his eyes.

The commander was also panting.

He looked at the row of old wind vents that he had never paid attention to before, his eyes filled with extremely complex emotions.

Their lives were not saved by a higher-dimensional system.

It was saved by a set of old valves, an old air pump, and an oxygen tank left over from the building's construction period.

Inside the wasteland bunker.

The staff officer lunged at the screen, his finger almost touching the curve.

"It's lifted up!"

The life support curve has started to rise again from a position that was close to zero.

One.

Two.

All three fleet curves have rebounded.

The staff officer's eyes turned red from staring.

"He bypassed the ship's airborne systems!"

"It's not about cracking, it's not about confronting."

"He directly awakened the physical backup of the construction era!"

The commander leaned back in his chair, his chest heaving.

"Therefore, the arbitration tribunal is taking over the new system."

The staff officer nodded, his lips dry.

"right."

"The more advanced the new system, the more it falls under the jurisdiction of the protocol."

"Those old things don't have access to the law bus, brain-computer interfaces, or proof of concept."

He stared at the old equipment startup logs on the screen.

"They are so backward that even the arbitration tribunal doesn't recognize them."

In the higher-dimensional dark web.

The young elder stared at the life curve and looked up again, his eyes gradually changing.

He did not laugh.

There was no cursing.

He used his blood-soaked hands to support himself on the ground and slowly sat up halfway.

"He wasn't invading the warship."

The young elder spoke softly.

"He is ordering the warships to return to their operating state before the laws were created."

After this statement was made, there was no rebuttal in the observation space.

All the remaining higher dimensions are watching the image.

The old terminal with green background and white text filled the screen.

The gray-white trial agreement flashed wildly in the upper-level system.

However, the old pumps, valves, and pipes at the very bottom of the ship's hull were completely ignored.

Just get to work.

Very stupid.

Very old.

But it can still run.

Slaughterhouse Command Center.

The posthumous trial agreement clearly did not accept this outcome.

Within the wreckage of the badge, the gray-white code ring suddenly contracted.

From the bloody pulp in his chest cavity, a grayish-white law worm the size of a fingertip crawled out.

It has no eyes.

The body is composed of countless tiny code segments, each of which changes symbols.

It fell from the warlord's mangled chest to the floor, stained with gray-blue blood, and quickly crawled toward the central motherboard cabinet.

The communications officer saw it.

He had barely taken a few breaths of oxygen, and before his complexion had even recovered, he immediately shouted.

"It went to the motherboard!"

The fire control officer wanted to touch the gun.

I found nothing.

The adjutant instinctively wanted to pounce on him and stomp on him.

The commander grabbed him and pinned him down.

"Don't touch it!"

They had all witnessed how vicious that thing could be.

If you encounter even one of these issues, you might end up on the blacklist.

The law-following insect crawls extremely fast.

It squeezed through the bloodstains, bypassed the spent cartridges, and rushed toward the gap at the bottom of the cabinet.

Once it gets inside the central motherboard, it can regain some control.

Even if the old life support pipeline is not under its control, it can still melt down the backup terminal and burn out the AM receiver module, rendering Su Yuan's remote commands completely ineffective.

The grayish-white insect was still 30 centimeters away from the cabinet.

Twenty centimeters.

ten centimeters.

Just as it was about to squeeze into the crevice.

Four maintenance holes were opened in the walls on both sides of the cabinet.

Four decommissioned maintenance robotic arms extended out.

The model number is ridiculously old.

The paint on the outer shell of the arm is peeling off.

The joints were covered in grease and grime.

The end tool head is equipped with a nozzle, a grinding wheel, a clamp, and a liquid nitrogen tube.

The gray-white law worm paused for a moment.

Its code segments are flashing wildly.

It's like they're confirming the threat category.

However, this information is not available in its database either.

This is not a weapon.

This is the maintenance arm.

Used for cleaning stains, polishing rust, cooling overheated parts, and removing harmful debris.

next second.

The industrial alcohol nozzle is turned on.

Wow.

The strong alcohol was poured directly onto the Law Bug, washing away the gray-blue blood and code slime on its surface.

The insect twisted violently, and its segments began to emit grayish-white mist.

The grinding wheel is started.

The high-speed rotating disc cuts across the floor.

A piercing screeching sound exploded in the command room.

Grinding wheel is not a cutting tool.

It's just polishing an "abnormally contaminated part".

The outer shell of the gray-white law insect was worn away little by little.

Debris flew everywhere.

The liquid nitrogen tube then sprayed.

The white mist engulfed the insect.

The extremely low temperature slows down its segmental movement, causing the gray-white code refresh rate to drop sharply.

The clamps pressed down.

Click.

Clamp it.

The grinding wheel is applied a second time.

layer.

Two layers.

Three floors.

The Law Worm struggled to eject several gray-white threads, trying to entangle the mechanical arm.

The drive circuit of the robotic arm is a purely physical relay.

The thread cannot find a brain-computer interface, a high-dimensional bus, or a proof-of-concept end.

They can only hang on the outer shell of the arm, like useless dirty wires.

The maintenance arm continues to operate.

Polishing.

freezing.

Crush.

Spray alcohol again.

The entire process was devoid of roars, flashy attacks, and clashes of laws.

It's like dealing with a moldy part in the engine room.

Thirty seconds later.

The gray-white law insect was reduced to a pile of fragments.

Another robotic arm pushed a small lead box out of the wall.

The box lid had a faded label.

"Hazardous waste".

The clamps swept the debris, fragments of badges, and the metal base stuck to the chest of the supervising officer into the lead box.

Close the lid.

The latch is locked.

All gray and white codes within the slaughterhouse number were simultaneously extinguished.

The backup terminal is refreshed.

"Abnormal peripheral device has been cleared."

"The host computer permissions are stable."

"Manual life support is functioning normally."

In the command room, the seven survivors stared at the lead box.

No one spoke.

A long time passed.

The communications officer's lips moved slightly.

"it……"

He glanced at the headless supervising officer.

I glanced at the label on the lead box again.

"Was it put away as trash?"

The adjutant leaned against the cabinet door, a laugh forced out of his throat, but he choked on the blood and coughed for a long time.

The fire control officer lay on the ground, his face covered in gunpowder and blood, but his eyes were somewhat vacant.

"Ninth-rank war supervisor".

He was panting.

"Hazardous waste".

The commander closed his eyes briefly.

When he opened his eyes again, he looked at the old terminal with its green background and white lettering, and there was no longer any hope in his eyes.

Wasteland shelter.

The words "Abnormal peripheral device cleared" are displayed steadily on the screen.

The staff officer stared with his mouth agape, unable to close it for a long time.

The commander stood up, using the edge of the table for support.

I stood for half a minute, but my legs gave way, so I sat back down.

He stared at the lead box in the picture, his throat tightening.

"Arbitration tribunal oversight sequence..."

The staff officer finished speaking for him.

"It was categorized as junk peripherals."

The high-dimensional dark web.

The young elder looked at the words on the lead box.

"Hazardous waste".

Those four words were more glaring than any legal judgment.

He stared at it for a long time, as if all his support had been removed.

"Ninth-tier supervisory sequence..."

His voice was so hoarse it was almost broken.

"It was categorized as junk peripherals."

No one dared to correct him.

No one can correct it.

Because the facts speak for themselves.

Gunpowder killed the body.

The grinding wheel ground down the agreement.

The lead box collected the remains.

So-called divinity, in the face of the old physical standards of Earth, is merely a software process that has gone astray.

Inside the Devourer.

After reading the feedback, Su Yuan's left hand returned to the keyboard.

Xiao Huo looked up, his eyes still trembling.

"Master, shall we swallow now?"

Su Yuan didn't look at him.

"Don't swallow."

He typed out the new Morse code.

"Fleet antenna array deployed."

"AM relay mode".

"Pointing to the edge of the Oort cloud in the solar system."

Press Enter.

The three warlord fleets were simultaneously shaken.

It's not the engine starting.

The old antennas that had been folded up for many years on the surface of the ship popped open one by one.

Some antennas were severely rusted and got stuck halfway through unfolding. The maintenance arm next to them immediately extended, sprayed oil, and tapped to force them back into place.

Outside the Slaughterhouse, the backup AM communication array beneath the main mast rotates slowly.

On the surfaces of the Bonebreaker, the Nighthound, and thousands of other frigates, countless old-fashioned antennas all turned in the same direction.

Edge of the Oort Cloud in the solar system.

A low-frequency, silver-black pulse emanated from the mechanical left eye of the Devourer.

The scale was amplified by the three fleets.

It spreads along the edge of the wasteland universe.

One by one, dormant old hardware was awakened.

Border buoys light up.

The base station in the abandoned mining area lights up.

The lighthouse on the abandoned shipping lane lights up.

An old-fashioned communications tower in an abandoned cemetery lights up.

They don't understand who Su Yuan is.

There's no need to understand it.

AM frequency is correct.

The test signal is correct.

The host computer has the correct priority.

So they responded.

On the star map, a dark silver chain of beacons extends from the edge of the wasteland, segment by segment, approaching the coordinates marked by the remaining base code.

The Great Wall defensive line.

At first, there were still some random calls in the wasteland channel.

"Has the Steel Teeth Fleet gone missing?"

"Is the Slaughterhouse number still alive?"

"Who has taken over the edge relay?"

"Don't connect! Don't connect! That's 001's signal!"

Soon, the call turned into silence.

Even on the remaining dark web, some people are forwarding the images.

No title.

There are only three records.

The ninth-ranking war superior was killed by machine gun fire.

The posthumous trial agreement was cleaned by the repair arm.

The three warlord fleets were converted into AM relay arrays.

Just a few minutes later, a word began to appear on various channels.

It's not a monster.

It was not a natural disaster.

It is not a higher-dimensional devourer.

Instead, it's a colder, older name that makes the underlying hardware instinctively obey.

Host computer.

Inside the Devourer's carriage, Little Fire watched the ever-lengthening chain of dark silver beacons on the star map, and the tip of its tail twitched.

"Master, the flight distance is being reduced."

He reconnected to the navigation panel and quickly swiped his finger across the data.

"It used to take 68 hours."

"Now that the relay chain is in place, the curvature window is more stable, and the physical return wave can correct for course deviations."

He paused for a moment.

"It's estimated that the price can be pushed down further."

Wang Hu looked at the fleet windows.

The surviving officers were still lying on the ground, panting.

The terminal displays "Stable host computer permissions" at the top.

His Adam's apple bobbed.

Do they know what they are living for?

Su Yuan finally raised his right eye and glanced at Wang Hu.

"Know."

Wang Hu felt a chill run down his spine.

Su Yuan continued.

"So they'll be more obedient."

Wang Hu didn't ask any more questions.

This is Su Yuan.

save people?

No.

He simply kept the usable equipment.

Whether it's an enemy, a warlord, or an arbitration tribunal, as long as they remain within his network, they must operate according to his rules.

Xiao Huo kept his head down, continuing to watch the flight path.

"The relay array is stable."

"AM return wave is normal."

"The Devourer can perform a new jump."

Su Yuan put the Pangu Project chip back into his palm, pressed his fingertips against the edge of the chip, and did not give the order immediately.

The silver-black mechanical left eye still buzzed once per second.

hum.

hum.

hum.

Just as Xiao Huo was about to push the jump lever.

The mechanical left eye suddenly stopped.

It doesn't stop rotating.

The rhythm of the resonant groove stopped for a full second.

Everyone in the carriage noticed it.

Xiao Huo's hand froze on the push rod.

Wang Hu suddenly looked up.

On the main screen, all the illuminated AM repeater arrays flashed simultaneously.

Slaughterhouse number.

The Bone Crusher.

The Nighthound.

Border buoys.

Old shipping lane lighthouse.

Abandoned mining base stations.

The cursors on all green-background, white-text terminals pause simultaneously.

then.

They received a returned signal.

source.

Edge of the Oort Cloud in the solar system.

It is not high-dimensional encoding.

It is not a message of law.

It is standard Chinese.

On the green screen with white text, characters appeared one by one.

"The Great Wall defense line has received echo number 001."

No one spoke in the carriage.

Su Yuan's mechanical left eye began to buzz again.

next second.

The second line of text appeared.

Please confirm: Do you still have a left eye that truly belongs to you?