I, the screenwriter, have experienced a resurgence of inspiration.

A circle was formed in the center of the crowd, surrounding several players who claimed to have heard crying.

Despair was etched on everyone's face. They slumped to the ground, tears streaming down their faces.

Some kept muttering "I don't want to die," while others had vacant eyes, as if all their souls had been taken away.

"HAHAHA...God bless, God bless!"

The other players who escaped unscathed, completely disregarding their feelings, wore long, smug, even twisted, smiles:

"It wasn't me! I wasn't the one blessed by death!"

"Thank goodness... I didn't hear that... I won't die..."

"I knew it! I wouldn't die here!"

"Poor man, may God bless you."

The contrast between the jubilant faces and the desperate, weeping faces beside them was utterly absurd and cruel.

It resembles a world-famous painting.

Why was it you who died?

Why weren't they the ones who died?

[Honey, they're laughing at you.]

[Since others are dying, why does it have to be you?]

Countless whispers rang in the players' ears.

The joy of the lucky player, built on the possibility of others dying, directly gave rise to something far more terrifying—

The next second, something unexpected happened.

"what!"

A piercing scream shattered the chaotic noise in the carriage.

Zhao Weilai suddenly turned his head and saw a player leap up from the ground like an enraged bear.

The fist, as big as a palm leaf fan, slammed into another player's face with a gust of wind.

The other person didn't hear the crying; that twisted smile was still on their face. The next moment, they took a solid punch.

His head lolled to the side, and two streams of blood gushed from his nose. He then crashed heavily to the floor.

The player who made the move didn't give him a chance to react at all, taking a step over and riding on his back.

Fists rained down on him, relentlessly pounding his head and face.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

The dull thud of a fist hitting flesh was particularly clear in the chaotic carriage.

"Now that the banshee of death has arrived, someone must die!"

The man's face flushed crimson, his eyes contorted like a wild beast's, spitting as he cried out, "You die in my place! Go die! You will serve death in my place!"

It's as if some kind of "evil" switch has been pressed.

At this moment, the instinct for survival was completely distorted into insane malice.

[Let her return to death in your place.]

"Yes...someone has to die...if someone else dies, I won't have to die..."

A middle-aged man who heard the crying muttered to himself, his eyes slowly turning bloodshot.

He suddenly turned his head and looked at a thin player next to him.

Before the player could react, he grabbed him by the neck and slammed him into the seat.

"You die in my place! Please, you die in my place!"

The man's voice was sharp and shrill, and his fingers tightened their grip.

The player's face instantly turned purple, and he desperately grabbed his arm with both hands, but he couldn't break free at all.

It was like toppling dominoes.

Humanity vanished at this moment, and the primal instincts hidden deep within broke free from their restraints.

One, two, three... The players who heard the crying went crazy and rushed towards the people around them.

Some choked him, some punched him, and some even bit him with their teeth, like wild beasts.

Everyone was repeating the same sentence: "You die in my place! If you die, I can live!"

The carriage instantly descended into complete chaos.

"Help! Help!! Save me!"

"I don't want to die! I don't want to die! I still have family!"

"I have money, I can give you money!"

Screams, beatings, tearing sounds, prayers, curses, cries...

Countless sounds mingled together, like filling being churned in a blender. The overhead lights flickered wildly, creating folded shadows that made the faces, driven to madness, appear and disappear in disarray.

At this moment, who can distinguish between fellow human beings and the devil?

"They've gone mad...they've all gone mad!" Mu Xiao was so frightened that her face turned pale. She gripped Zhao Weilai's arm tightly, her body trembling uncontrollably.

"Be careful!"

Weng Yang pulled Mu Xiao away, and a crazed male player, clutching a piece of broken glass, lunged at her, aiming straight for her face.

Zhao Weilai kicked the man in the stomach with a backhand motion. The man groaned and curled up as he fell to the ground, the broken glass rolling to the side.

"NIO, something's not right with them!"

Weng Yang shouted and pressed his hand firmly against the gun at his waist.

The carriage was too narrow.

People were running around everywhere, the space was cramped, and bullets were prone to ricocheting.

She had no choice but to fire a shot at the corpse.

"Bang!"

But the gunpowder and the loud noise only calmed the frantically tearing players down for less than a second.

"What are you doing?!"

Zhao Weilai also realized something was wrong. She pushed Mu Xiao to the corner of the seat and heard a Korean woman scream from behind.

She turned her head and saw Kim Myung straddling Park So-na, but it wasn't the intimate whispering between lovers—his hands were tightly gripping the woman's neck.

"Go to hell, go to hell, go to hell, you crazy woman! I've had enough of you!"

"Damn it! Why am I the one who hears crying?! Why do I have to die?!"

Kim Myung's eyes were frighteningly red, veins bulged on his forehead, and he was cursing wildly in Korean:

"It's all your fault. If it weren't for you, how could I have ended up like this? You deserve to die, Suna. If you die, I can live."

You love me so much, you'd definitely be willing, right? — Then just obediently die in my place!

"Oppa..."

Park So-na's face turned bluish-purple, and she gripped Kim Myung's wrists with both hands, her nails digging into his flesh.

But she only shed tears, her struggles grew weaker and weaker, and finally she let go of her hands, determined to die.

"Are you even human?!"

Zhao Weilai screamed, rushed over in two steps, and lifted Jin Ming off Park So-na like a chick, then threw him hard backward.

Jin Ming, who weighed a full 130 or 140 pounds, felt as light as an empty bottle in Zhao Weilai's hands.

He was slammed against the back of the seat and groaned in pain.

"Are you crazy?"

Zhao Weilai, carrying the man, exclaimed in disbelief, "She's your girlfriend!"

"Then go die!"

Jin Ming, his eyes red, like an enraged beast, reached out to Zhao Weilai, shouting, "Then you die for me! Go die! Why don't you just die?!"

Towards the end, his voice even cracked with sobs, his hands rubbing together like flies, his eyes filled with a morbid pleading:

"Go to hell! Go to hell! Just go to hell!!"

Zhao Weilai slapped the man, and the man tilted his head to the side and was immediately soothed to sleep.

She then looked at Park So-na, who was panting heavily; although she looked disheveled, she was still alive.

But the situation inside the car was worse than she had imagined.

People were fighting everywhere.

Some people were beaten until their heads bled and lay motionless on the ground.

Someone was riding on top of another person, and their fists kept hitting them down.

Margaret weaved through the crowd, trying to break up the fight while loudly reciting from the Bible and shouting, "God loves you, stop the violence!"

—But nobody listened to her. A crazed player swung his arm and hit her in the face.

The priest grabbed Margaret and pulled her behind him, shielding her from the attack.

But Margaret was unmoved. She abruptly shook off Father Ivan's hand, took a step back, and her eyes were filled with anger.

"Don't touch me! You heretic! You thief who splits the church! You can't deceive me! I don't need the help of hypocritical heretics!"

The priest didn't argue with her; he simply turned around and continued to pull away the players who were fighting fiercely.

Weng Yang was also sweating profusely with anxiety.

She pulled them apart one by one, but as soon as she separated the people on one side, another fight broke out on the other.

The players seemed to have completely lost their minds, with only the thought that "if others die, I can live."

Everyone would attack anyone they could find, without distinguishing right from wrong.

The crowd's frenzy showed no signs of abating.