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

London in July always seems to be shrouded in a faint mist.

The air was damp in the dead of night.

The greasy, sticky aroma of fish and chips wafting from the street vendors at the subway station entrance always makes me feel uncomfortable.

"Squeak—"

The last train on the northern line slowly glided into the platform, bringing with it a gust of wind carrying coal dust.

The doors slid open with a "whoosh," and a few scattered passengers dragged their feet inside.

No one spoke.

Sunsets and dinners belong to those who leave work on time, not to those who catch the last train.

Many people are so busy after a long day that they don't even have the energy to lift their heads.

—This is the last bus heading towards Edgewell.

The carriages were old models that had been used on the northern line for over a decade, with worn-out blue-gray velvet seats.

Even the most meticulous British gentleman had to hold his nose and sit on the chair stained with coffee and cigarette butts.

Several crumpled copies of the free Metro newspaper were scattered on the seats.

A half-empty can of beer rolled under the seat, making a soft clattering sound when shaken.

The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed incessantly, their pale light casting a deathly pallor on everyone's face in the carriage.

……

……

A middle-aged man wearing a khaki Burberry trench coat was sitting in the two-seater near the door.

He was reading a neatly folded copy of The Times.

The front page headline of the newspaper was in bold English: "A hundred demons parade through the streets of Tokyo? Strange phenomena reported in multiple countries, no official response yet."

The man glanced at the headline and lamented that even The Times had fallen so low, starting to report these sensationalist fake news stories.

On the other side sat a middle-aged woman wearing a beige knitted cardigan.

On the right-hand single seat, an Indian programmer rolled up his sleeves, revealing thick body hair.

The old ThinkPad keyboard on his lap was being pounded away, and the tuna sandwich on the chair had gone hard.

In the seat diagonally behind, sat a priest wearing a black robe, whose skin was so white it was almost transparent.

Two rows further back, by the window, huddled a Chinese student with black hair.

She was wearing a gray oversized sweatshirt with the UCL logo printed on the front.

Then there was a young East Asian couple and a chubby white auntie.

In the middle of the carriage, the most conspicuous group were five teenagers around sixteen or seventeen years old, dressed in the typical attire of East London:

A black hoodie with an exaggerated logo of a trendy brand printed on the chest, paired with faded sweatpants and sneakers so dirty that their original color was no longer visible.

The boy in the lead had striking platinum blonde short hair and three silver studs in his left ear.

The group chatted and laughed, uttering a few slang terms with heavy accents. Their laughter was high-pitched and drifting, mingling with the smell of alcohol and filling the carriage.

"Go queue up at that trendy store on Oxford Street tomorrow? They just released a new collaboration, and if you're late, you won't even get a number."

The red-haired boy, with a lollipop in his mouth, mumbled something indistinctly.

"Bullshit, only an idiot would spend hundreds of pounds on a lousy hoodie."

Someone laughed loudly, and some wine dripped from the corner of his mouth onto his chin, which he casually wiped away with his sleeve.

"Did you see David's clothes? They look like they were picked out of a trash can, and they reek of sourness—what a pathetic pauper."

The slightly chubby boy next to him joined in the commotion.

The group of people were pushing and shoving each other, laughing and joking. The passengers nearby frowned and moved aside, no one wanting to mess with these teenagers.

London teenagers have always been notoriously difficult.

When they get harsh, they can belittle someone to nothing; when they get angry, they don't know their own limits.

Calling the police is useless; the only option is to avoid them.

The entire carriage was quiet, except for the laughter of the boys and the clanging of the wheels on the tracks.

No one was talking, no one was making eye contact.

The unspoken understanding on the London Underground is not to disturb others; even when sitting together, people act as if they are from two different worlds.

"Sizzle sizzle sizzle... s ......"

The fluorescent lights overhead started flashing, and suddenly, the entire carriage shook violently!

"Clang—!"

The metal body emitted a screeching, twisting sound, as if something had slammed into it.

The fluorescent lights overhead flickered wildly, and everyone was swayed and tilted between the flashes.

The Indian man nearly slipped his computer and fell to the ground. He quickly reached out to steady it, uttering a curse word in an Indian accent.

The international student's phone flew out and hit the seat with a loud "smack".

Several teenagers were cursing and swearing.

Fortunately, the vibration only lasted for two seconds before stopping.

The light bulb flickered wildly three more times before finally settling down.

A few people complained in the carriage, but no one really took it seriously.

The London Underground has many old lines, all of which are in disrepair.

The occasional swaying of the carriage and the flickering of the overhead lights are commonplace.

One passenger took out his phone and checked it; the signal bars were empty, and he couldn't even make an emergency call.

"God, I've had enough. There's no signal. You must be kidding me."

"Hey, thank goodness we're not trapped in the tunnel."

"The fares keep going up every year, and the service is worse than in the US. It's disgusting."

The passengers seemed oblivious to the changes inside the carriage, only muttering complaints under their breath.

The next second, a short, sharp scream suddenly came from the back of the carriage.

"Holy shit! How... how did she suddenly appear?!"

In an instant, everyone's eyes turned to that direction.

A Chinese girl with an Asian face suddenly appeared on the previously empty double seat.

She was wearing a loose-fitting, all-black training uniform made of durable canvas, with tightly fitted cuffs and trouser legs that accentuated her strong muscles.

A long, bulging object was wrapped in thick, coarse cloth on its back.

The hilt peeked out from the top of the cloth sheath, gleaming with a cold metallic sheen.

She seemed a little nervous, quickly glanced around, and swiftly placed the knife against her chest in defense.

It was Zhao Weilai.

……

……

A grown man suddenly appeared on the enclosed subway, drawing curious glances from many people. Several teenagers even started whistling, seemingly oblivious to their surroundings.

"Awesome!"

"Hey! Girl!"

"A Chinese person? Is this someone playing Tomb Raider or Battle Angel?"

……

……

……

Despite being mentally prepared to be pulled back into the game at any time, Zhao Weilai still couldn't help but tremble when it actually happened.

One second she was in the training room, learning fighting techniques from her instructor.

The next second, the comforting smell disappeared, replaced by the smell of beer, fish, and stale air mixed with a musty odor.

She clutched her weapon—the butcher's knife, a reward from the previous dungeon.

The carriage fell silent for a few seconds.

During the day, videos of the neon-lit parade of demons have gone viral on social media across Europe.

Twitter is full of related hashtags.

Some say it's movie special effects, some say it's a paranormal event that the authorities are covering up, and some say it's an angel.

The debate has been raging, but no official response has been given by any country.

Now, a mysterious woman carrying a weapon has appeared out of nowhere in the enclosed subway car.

People sitting near Zhao Weilai moved to the side, and some stood up and moved to the other end of the carriage, trying to stay as far away from her as possible.

A group of people looked in this direction with a mixture of curiosity and fear.

Only the woman in the cardigan paused for a moment, then stood up and slowly approached, her face showing kind concern.

She walked over to Zhao Weilai, her voice gentle, with a slight London suburban accent:

"My God, poor child, are you alright? Are you feeling unwell? Do you need help? I can take you to the nearest police station..."

The aunt spoke very slowly, and Zhao Wei could barely understand her—perhaps because of Liu Guilan, she had a certain fondness for unfamiliar women of this age.

Zhao Weilai quickly glanced at the white woman in front of him, then scanned the entire carriage.

There were more than thirty people of various races, all dressed in typical modern London style.

The train car was an old-fashioned subway car, with a dark tunnel outside the window and the wheels clattering loudly.

She speaks excellent English; she can understand not only what the white woman is saying, but also the conversation between the teenagers and the passengers' complaints.

Zhao Weilai's heart skipped a beat.

This isn't a familiar instanced space; this is a real-world scenario.

Or, like Jiangcheng University, it is a copy of reality projected onto an unknown space.

……

……

Suppressing the turmoil in his heart, Zhao Weilai confirmed the information rapidly:

"I'm fine. What time is it? Which bus route are we on, and which direction are we going?"

Are you Chinese?

Mu Xiao, a Chinese student studying abroad, wasn't far from her. She had just heard Zhao Weilai speak, and after glancing at her East Asian features, hesitated for a moment before leaning forward and quickly replying:

"It's 12:07 a.m., and this is the last train on the London Underground's Northern Line, heading towards Edgwell."

Hearing the familiar Chinese, Zhao Weilai felt relieved and immediately thanked them, saying, "Thank you."

She now needs to confirm whether she has entered the instance.

If not, then you should get away from here as quickly as possible.

The next second, familiar ink-wash characters spread through the air:

Side Quest: As a veteran player who has faced life and death, comfort the newcomers. (+100 points * number of players surviving after the dungeon ends)

[The points system is now open: You can earn points by completing side quests and exploring hidden storylines. Points can be exchanged for items at the Clay Sculptor's Shop.]

……

Here it comes, it's definitely a mission exclusive to veteran players.

Zhao Weilai's pupils suddenly contracted. This time was completely different from before; she appeared directly in Great Britain, thousands of miles away!

The news of the Japanese Night Parade of One Hundred Demons is already widely known...

Is it possible that dungeons are already infiltrating the real world?

Zhao Weilai's mind raced with thoughts. Realizing that the dungeon was about to begin, she suddenly stood up, and the people around her subconsciously took a half step back.

"Everyone, please be quiet and listen to me."

Zhao Weilai glanced at the more than thirty panicked and curious faces in the carriage, raised his voice, and explained in clear and standard English:

"We have now entered a supernatural instance, and danger is about to occur."

Please remain calm, do not act rashly, refrain from saying anything provocative, and do not attempt to damage any objects around you. Do everything possible to ensure your survival.

"Oh my God!"

"Hahaha, did you guys hear what she said?"

"Stay calm and don't act rashly..." Hahaha!

As soon as she finished speaking, laughter erupted from the other end of the carriage.

The teenagers laughed uproariously, their tone extremely sarcastic:

"Look! There's a Marvel superhero fan here!"

"Hey! Who are you playing? Harry Potter? Spider-Man? Or Wonder Woman? Oh, Wonder Woman, where's your Lasso of Truth?"

"Hahaha, this is a supernatural scenario, how interesting! A Chinese person, carrying a toy knife, comes to the subway to play a superhero?"

The red-haired boy whistled along, his smile malicious:

"Was this to gain TikTok followers? Seriously, that entrance effect is really good. How did they do that? Did they hide under the seat beforehand and crawl out?"

"I see, magic tricks, right? We all know them. Would you like us to demonstrate for you?"

"Yes, relax, 'stay calm,' we just want to join you too... hahaha."

The group went further and further as they spoke, their laughter becoming sharp and grating, laced with unbridled malice.

—How come every newbie participating in a dungeon has such a classic, utterly idiotic fool?

Zhao Weilai felt it was a tricky situation, but the next second, she blinked and her pupils reflected a dark red blood color.

"puff--!"

"puff--!"

Among the teenagers who were laughing, one of them had his head explode without warning.

Suddenly, everyone's vision turned red.