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

When Zhao Weilai woke up, the light above his head was incredibly peaceful.

On the navy blue velvet seat, brass armrests and the shadows of the past are still hidden beneath the bloodstains.

She was awakened by the pain in her neck.

Zhao Weilai leaned against the cold car window, his sleep restless, filled with fragmented nightmares.

She sat up straight, clutching the knife in her arms, and looked out the car window.

06: 17.

My phone showed 02:17 before I took a break.

She rested for four whole hours, but there was still no light outside the window.

The surrounding players huddled in their seats, their expressions blank.

Even the longest section of the London Underground takes only twenty minutes to exit the tunnel.

Four hours is enough for the subway to travel across the entire city of London.

But there was still no reflection from the tunnel walls visible outside the window.

"Zhao, Zhao..."

The Indian man standing nearby stammered, trying to ingratiate himself:

"You slept for four hours, and we...we didn't dare wake you...the car kept driving and driving, and it was all dark outside the window. Nobody knew where we were going."

His voice trembled violently, and his lips were dry and cracked: "What should we do now?"

Everyone in the carriage looked over, seemingly regarding Zhao Weilai as their pillar of support.

Zhao Weilai glanced around, feeling somewhat heavy-hearted.

An Orthodox priest sat in a corner, silently praying over the headless corpse on the ground.

— Several corpses were piled together, including a pale-faced, stiff-bodied chestnut-haired female corpse.

Margaret found her identification; her name was Nina, and she had died of a heart attack the previous night.

She sat diagonally opposite the priest, her hair slightly disheveled, her lips moving silently as she recited a prayer, her expression sorrowful.

"Poor child..."

Mu Xiao hugged her canvas tote bag and huddled in the seat.

The South Korean couple held each other's hands tightly, their expressions filled with trepidation.

"God will arrange everything."

Margaret murmured to herself:

"He will surely send revelation and angels to save us."

Zhao Weilai shook his head.

……

……

Just then, Mu Xiao let out a startled cry, her face turning pale.

"What's wrong?"

Zhao Wei looked over, and Mu Xiao nervously rubbed her hands together.

"The bread I bought, I hadn't even opened it before I left home... and now it's already..."

Zhao Weilai looked down at the handbag in her hand. Half of the whole wheat bread had fallen out, but the transparent packaging bag was still properly sealed.

—But the bread inside had completely changed.

The bread was covered with a thick layer of mold, the grayish-green mycelium was fuzzy, like a disgusting layer of down.

It's only been a few hours.

Sealed bread at room temperature is no longer edible.

On the aisle floor, the tuna sandwiches were trampled into mud, and yellowish-brown rotten juices were already seeping out.

It smelled like a dead fish that had been dead for half a month and then exposed to the sun for three days.

Ravi, of Indian descent, gagged and quickly covered his nose: "What the hell is going on?!"

"It's an anomaly in the instance."

Zhao Weilai shook his head. He'd encountered a similar scene before in the "University Ghost Stories" instance—

The food in the canteen all spoiled overnight, and they survived on just a few packets of biscuits.

……

The unusual thing about the first night was the "invisible ticket inspector".

Zhao Weilai regained some composure and began to analyze:

"The rules state that carriages 4, 8, and 12 are safe zones, so this train has at least twelve carriages, meaning there should be players in every carriage."

—【The Invisible Train Conductor】is traveling from the first carriage to the second.

The anomaly started in the first carriage and spread to the next one after another.

"This is so unfair."

Ravi muttered nervously to himself:

"If the anomaly starts in the first carriage, aren't the people sitting in the front carriages incredibly unlucky? Why should we die first? That's not fair!"

But no one around him responded to him.

He simply sat back down, feeling awkward.

Zhao Weilai's expression grew increasingly helpless.

Demanding fairness from dungeons—that's just plain stupid.

Zhao Weilai softened his tone: "If we want to be safe, we need to move closer to the food truck. The dungeon hints that there are points shops in sections four, eight, and twelve, where we should be able to exchange for items and food."

These words were like a reassuring pill, and the expressions of the others relaxed a little.

At least there's some hope now.

"We are now in the first quarter."

Zhao Weilai pointed behind him: "Once we get through the second and third carriages, we'll reach the safe zone."

"So what are we waiting for?"

Jin Ming immediately stood up, his tone urgent: "Damn it... what if that monster comes back here?"

Just as Zhao Weilai was about to speak, he heard a very, very soft sound coming from the door between the first and second carriages:

"clatter."

Everyone was startled and instinctively looked towards the car door.

The metal door, which had been locked, suddenly popped open on its own.

The door was ajar, revealing a thin crack.

Zhao Weilai was somewhat unsure whether it was safe behind the door, but she had been traumatized since the last instance.

She would never open a door, whether it was closed or half-open.

Mu Xiao glanced at Zhao Weilai, who was frozen in place, and seemed to sense her hesitation. She then volunteered to step forward.

"Sister Zhao, let me do it."

She took a deep breath and stood up, supporting herself on the chair.

Mu Xiao was also a little scared, but she wanted to leave this place as soon as possible.

She walked to the car door and gently pulled open the slightly ajar door.

The door hinges made a piercing creaking sound.

The next second, Mu Xiao's head slipped off her shoulder without warning, freezing the blankness and fear on the girl's face, the light in her pupils still shimmering—

The scene behind the door was revealed to everyone without warning.

The second carriage wasn't behind the door at all.

In a distorted and thick darkness, countless heads were intertwined and grew out of the ground, ceiling and walls on both sides, like huge bunches of deformed flowers, filling the entire space.

Each "ghost flower" is made up of dozens or even hundreds of ghosts twisted together.

Countless faces were crowded on the lumps of fleshy growths, each with a different shape and a tragic death.

Hanged, crushed, drowned, burned, strangled...

Countless limbs were intertwined, twisting and contorting like vines.

Countless grayish-white, translucent ghosts piled together, forming a tumor-like flower stem.

Densely packed.

It even possesses a shocking and distorted beauty.

There was absolutely no warning.

Before Mu Xiao could even scream, warm blood splattered onto the carriage walls.

Next came the people of Indian descent.

Then came the priest, Margaret, and the Korean couple.

Zhao Weilai didn't even feel any pain, he just felt a chill on his neck.

It was as light as a gentle breeze, and then her gaze began to tilt and swirl.

In the midst of the dizzying spin, she saw that her body was still standing in the same place.

Blood gushed out from the severed neck like a fountain, splashing onto the ground and spreading out in large, dark patches.

My face slammed heavily onto the cold floor, and I could smell the rust.

Her eyes were still open.

She could see the Korean couple falling to the ground.

The priest was overwhelmed and torn apart by countless ghosts.

Margaret's treasured Bibles were scattered all over the floor.

too fast.

They were so fast that they didn't even have a chance to resist.

Don't come in.

Don't come in.

Zhao Weilai's consciousness rapidly sank, as if he had fallen into a bottomless abyss.

Her last thought was:

Deng Ziwen, please don't enter this instance.

Then everything went black, and she lost consciousness completely.

Ghost flowers filled the first carriage, and countless twisted ghosts let out wild, shrill screams.

The ghost continued to spread towards the rear carriages.

Like a string of lit firecrackers, the ghostly feast of death began in the first section and sped onward.

The players' screams rose and fell, then quickly disappeared.

……

……

……

……

"How come they're all dead?! You damn system, what are you doing?! What are you doing?!"

What does it mean when the maximum number of materials a dungeon can hold is reached?

Outside the copy, Song Mo scratches his head at the floating ink-wash characters:

"The resource storage limit is reached with 150 players?"

Can't you?

[Instance: The Ghost Subway of London]

[Instance Status: On the verge of collapse]

[Current number of monsters in the instance: 379 (rapidly increasing) Invisible train conductor, sheep monster, hollow man, headless ghost...]

[An unknown anomaly has occurred in the instance, and it is about to spiral out of control. Please handle it as soon as possible!]

[Warning: The instance will appear in the real world in 360 seconds!]

Inside the instance, players screamed and wailed, some losing their lives without even a chance to fight back.