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

After discussing it, Zhao Weilai and Weng Yang decided to continue their journey and move closer to the safe zone.

A person can survive for seven days without food.

But if you don't drink water for three days, you will definitely die of thirst.

Zhao Weilai suppressed the anxiety in his heart.

Before the dungeon appeared, she was just like countless ordinary people, unable to even bring herself to kill a chicken.

Even after receiving short-term training, they were still no match for the special operations team led by Chen Xi in terms of mentality and skills.

But Zhao Weilai knew that sitting idly by and waiting for death was not the solution.

Being on a closed train with unclear rules means that every minute you stay there increases the risk of unknown dangers.

"it is good."

She nodded and put the butcher knife back into her backpack: "I'll go tell everyone and see how many people are willing to come along."

Although the two of them were speaking in hushed tones.

But the carriage was so quiet that you could hear your own breathing.

In the back rows of seats, Mu Xiao was eavesdropping, surrounded by a group of British men who couldn't understand Chinese, who were eagerly waiting for her to translate.

"So? What did they say?"

"God, will they abandon us?"

"What should we do...?"

Mu Xiao whispered their plan to continue walking, and half the group breathed a sigh of relief, while a few began to protest quietly:

"We have to keep going forward, that's terrifying! What if we encounter that invisible monster from last night?"

"Those people whose heads exploded, will we end up like them... God, I still can't forget it."

"Oh my god."

"Shut up, you coward. There's not even a crumb of biscuit here. We'll just starve to death if we stay here."

"Couldn't they go find food and bring it back to share with us?"

Some people grumbled in dissatisfaction, but quickly fell silent.

Zhao Weilai and Weng Yang walked over and announced their decision.

The Orthodox priest didn't offer any opinion; he simply stood up, straightened his priestly robes, and stood behind the two men.

The meaning is clear.

It's always better to follow two experienced, kind Asians than a bunch of complaining cowards.

The others thought about it for a moment, and then slowly followed.

Since the instance indicates the food truck is a safe zone, perhaps they can find a way out there.

A rustling sound immediately filled the carriage.

The people who were originally huddled in various corners had different expressions in their eyes.

Some hesitated, some were afraid, but some couldn't hide their anticipation.

Within seconds, people began to gather around.

"Count me in, kind lady, I'd like to go with you."

"I'll go too."

"Please take me with you, I... I can help carry your things."

That's how people are; once the first person stands up, the majority of the rest will follow suit.

No one dared to stay alone in this carriage filled with corpses, nor did anyone dare to venture alone into the unknown next carriage.

So following two people who seem "very capable" becomes the safest option at the moment.

Of course, many people had other ideas: Zhao Weilai had weapons, so if they really encountered monsters, someone could protect them.

Zhao Weilai counted the heads one by one, silently keeping track of the numbers in his mind.

There were sixteen people, plus her and Weng Yang, making a total of eighteen.

She, the Orthodox priest, and Mu Xiao, an international student, are three players with professional skills.

She turned her head and exchanged a glance with Weng Yang.

They both saw the same meaning in each other's eyes:

With so many people involved, there are too many variables and too many opinions.

If things really go wrong, they will definitely prioritize saving their own lives and the lives of their teammates.

……

"You can follow us."

Weng Yang spoke up to signal, and Mu Xiao helped translate:

"Everyone must listen to the captain, don't touch anything, don't ask any questions, and of course, don't expect us to give up our lives to save you."

Her tone was not polite, even a bit cold.

Those present felt much more at ease.

—If the other party were truly smiling, radiating holy light, and patting their chest to guarantee that they would definitely be led away, that would be more unsettling.

Everyone nodded hurriedly, afraid of being left behind if they were late.

In the face of death, dignity is the least valuable thing.

Of course, the voice that had just suggested Zhao Wei go find food also disappeared.

……

……

……

When Weng Yang reached the door of the third carriage, he suddenly stopped.

The metal door handle hung limply, and a sliver of light peeked through the crack in the door—the door was ajar.

"What's wrong?"

Zhao Weilai leaned closer, following her gaze to the crack in the door: "Wasn't it locked before?"

"It must have just been opened."

Weng Yang lowered his voice even further: "Yesterday I tried knocking on the door, but no one answered."

"Oh, so the knocking I heard was from you."

Zhao Weilai felt slightly embarrassed, and then he saw Weng Yang open the door—the light in the third carriage was a bit dimmer than in the second carriage.

The splattered blood burned holes in the roof of the car, turning the fluorescent lights into dim, yellow lanterns.

The dim light cast long shadows on the survivors.

"Who is it?! Don't come any closer!"

"We have weapons, let's get out of here!"

"Are they the ones who saved us...?"

Four white men huddled in a corner at the back of the carriage, clutching various "weapons":

A folded black umbrella with polished tips, a rusty crowbar, a small knife, and a viola with a broken string.

Upon seeing the large group of people rushing in, the tall man at the head immediately stood up.

He slammed the crowbar in his hand to the ground with a loud clang.

"stop!"

The man's voice was rough and hoarse, with a heavy East London accent, and he swore easily.

"WHAT HELL! How the hell did you guys get in?! Or are you accomplices of that unseen devil?!"

Zhao Weilai realized that they must be talking about the "invisible train conductor".

The remaining three men also stood up.

They were all strong and muscular, with menacing eyes, and large black tattoos on their bare forearms.

The carriage fell silent instantly.

The players instinctively took a half step back and hid behind Weng Yang and Zhao Weilai.

"Sorry, we meant no harm."

Zhao Weilai took half a step forward, speaking as calmly as possible:

"We are just like you, players trapped on this train, just trying to get through here to the fourth carriage."

Have you met any other Asians? Or, more specifically, other Chinese people like me?

Upon hearing the word "Chinese," the expressions of the four men changed simultaneously.

The tall man and the bearded man beside him exchanged glances.

That fleeting moment of guilt was precisely captured by Weng Yang.

……

"What are you talking about, little girl?"

The bearded man scoffed and spat on the ground.

"There are only the four of us here now. All this strange writing and hints are nonsense, a devil's trick!"

"Get out of here right now! This carriage is our territory!"

"Yes! Get out of here!"

The tall, thin man joined in the shouting, brandishing a small knife in his hand, his bravado masking his underlying fear:

"We don't want to fight, don't force us to be impolite! You'll regret it later!"

The youngest man didn't say anything, he just held up his viola.

Zhao Weilai was not intimidated by the group's bluff.

She glanced at Weng Yang, then turned aside and slowly walked down the narrow passage, her steps very light.

"We're just passing through; we won't take your place."

"*****! Damn it, I told you to stop right there!"

The tall man took a step forward, pointing his crowbar at her with a menacing expression: "No one can pass through here, lest we attract that damned devil—"

Before he could finish speaking, the expression on his face froze.

Weng Yang was standing a short distance to the side behind Zhao Weilai, her expression indifferent, revealing the holster on her waist.

There's a gun?

Damn it.

The tall man felt intimidated by Weng Yang's stare and instinctively stepped aside, muttering curses under his breath, but he didn't actually step forward to stop him.

……

Zhao Weilai continued walking inside.

The seats in the carriage were crooked and twisted, and there were scattered luggage, broken glass, and corpses everywhere on the floor.

She counted them; there were seven bodies in total, men, women, and children, all dying in the same manner as the victims in the first two carriages.

The neck was stretched thin and long, as if an invisible hand was gripping the chin and pulling it upwards, the skin stretched so taut it was almost transparent.

Red and white brain tissue and blood were splattered everywhere.

Those that didn't even leave behind a corpse were probably eaten by the train conductor.

Zhao Weilai held his breath and squatted down to identify the faces of the deceased one by one.

They were all foreigners with high noses and deep-set eyes; there were no familiar Eastern faces, and no teammates.

There was no Deng Ziwen either.

She breathed a slight sigh of relief, but then immediately became anxious again.

If it's not in the third section, it's most likely in a later carriage.

She quickly walked to the back of the carriage and pushed the metal door leading to the fourth carriage.

The door remained firmly locked, not moving an inch.

She turned and walked back to Weng Yang's side, lowering her voice: "There are no teammates inside, and the door for the fourth quarter is locked and can't be opened."

"Ladies."

Father Collevo overheard their conversation, guessed what was going on, and raised his hand to make the sign of the cross:

"I think we'll probably have to wait until after tonight before the next door opens."

"Father, how can you be so sure?"

Zhao Weilai turned his head and asked.

"The door connecting the first carriage to the second carriage unlocked automatically after we had spent the first night."

The dark-haired man's gaze swept over the tightly locked fourth carriage door, his expression serious, with a touch of Russian rigidity:

"Strive to enter through the narrow gate. I tell you, many will try to enter and will not be able to." (Matthew 4:1-12)

In many myths and legends, doors are symbolic and not easily opened.

I think that the passage to the next carriage will only open after each unusual occurrence at night, like a level in a game.

Using the analogy of a game instance to describe a dungeon, this was said by a priest—

Zhao Weilai was somewhat surprised, but then relayed what Weng Yang had said, and the two of them also felt that it might be related to the anomaly.

Some people in the crowd were already starting to get restless because of hunger.

Everyone's lips were dry.

Hunger is a truly unpleasant experience.

Zhao Weilai subconsciously wanted to take out the [Thousand Mile Hunger-Free Pill], a small pill that would allow him to go three days without food or water.

Every veteran player who enters the dungeon has five.

Weng Yang seemed to have seen through Zhao Weilai's plan and gently touched her arm.

Zhao Weilai immediately realized what was happening.

A dozen or so strangers, their eyes bloodshot with hunger.

Just now, someone suggested that they go find food on their own, because if it were known that they had special elixirs.

That's like writing "I'm a fat sheep" directly on your face.

Forget about dividing the spoils; it's uncertain whether this group will swarm them, tie them up, and steal their belongings.

Weng Yang's meaning was very clear:

Only by keeping them hungry will these people be more obedient and determined to follow them to the dining car.

If they are truly fed, they are more likely to have other ideas.

The dangers in dungeons are never just about ghosts and rules.

Zhao Weilai felt a little depressed and could only force himself to look away.

……

The four tattooed men grew increasingly angry when they saw that the women not only didn't leave, but also stopped inside the carriage.

"I told you to get out! You despicable thieves, robbers! Shameful bastards!"

The tall man shouted:

"I am God's chosen one; those who anger us will all go to hell!"

"Get back to your own carriages right now!"

The man with the thick beard chimed in.

"Feel sorry--"

Before Zhao Weilai could finish his apology, his gaze swept casually across the room, and suddenly he froze.

The man's coarse cloth coat sleeves were rolled up, and a red rope necklace hung loosely on his left arm.

The pendant is a crookedly sculpted clay figure of Deng Ziwen.

It was Deng Ziwen's talisman.

Why would personal items end up in the hands of a stranger?

Zhao Weilai looked as if he had been punched on the head, completely dazed.