Apocalypse: I Built the Infinite Train-Chapter 302: Shocking Change!
Tang Yun's words caught both Lin Xian and KIKI off guard. They had clearly understood the implication behind her words, which indirectly explained why Tang Yun and the others were here. Essentially, they were part of the Crimson World project and must have paid quite a price for it.
“How much do you know about this Crimson World?” Lin Xian asked.
“I... don't know much. I only came here because my husband brought me. This organization is very mysterious. The highest-ranking person I’ve seen here is a white man named Julius Litt, looked like he was in his forties. He’s the one who told us about the properties of the mycelial network, and he also had us experience the hallucinogenic spores. The rest…”
Tang Yun wasn’t someone with strong opinions. Everything she did was at the behest of her husband—KIKI’s second uncle, Wen Dong. So the real question was, why did her husband send his wife and child here, then run off on his own?
“Wen Qi, it’s really good that you’re still alive…” Tang Yun looked up at KIKI, her face filled with sorrow. “Even though your aunt took all of your and your father’s assets, the underground city quota your father secured for you is non-transferable. No matter if she becomes a member of the Dawn City council or not, you still have the identity of Linglong Group's heir and a senior member of the Dawn Project. You can go to Dawn City. Aside from the Phoenix HQ, it’s probably the safest place left. You can survive there…”
Hearing this, KIKI turned to look at Lin Xian. “That’s true. I heard Dawn City is overcrowded now, and the entry fee’s through the roof. This identity of mine might really come in handy.”
Lin Xian added, “But your aunt and the rest of the Wen family probably won’t welcome you.”
“What does that have to do with me? Does this lady need their approval?” KIKI floated off the ground, arms crossed, proudly defiant.
Lin Xian chuckled. Fair enough—this girl could crush a truck with her bare hands. This kind of ultra-rare psychokinesis ability was far more valuable in the apocalypse than wealth or status.
“Alright.”
He turned to Tang Yun. “Get dressed. Come with me. I’ll take you out of here.”
To his surprise, Tang Yun showed no reaction to his words. She just kept her head down in silence. After a long while, she finally said,
“I don’t want to leave.”
KIKI immediately frowned. “Hey, what do you mean you don’t want to leave? You saw what happened—so many people died! You wanna die too?”
“No!”
Tang Yun’s expression turned desperate, her eyes reddened as she shook her head. “No, they’re not dead. My son’s not dead. He’s in that world. We’re together every day. It’s not fake!”
Lin Xian looked at her, unsure if she was simply unable to accept her son’s death, or if she was completely lost in the illusion created by the mycelium. He said quietly,
“Once we leave, this place will lose power completely. No more robot maintenance. The life pods will stop working. Your physical bodies will rot and die. Are you sure?”
Hearing this, fear flickered in Tang Yun’s eyes—but was soon replaced by obsession. Her chest rose and fell rapidly. “No, no… Once I enter that world, I’ll live in that world.”
She suddenly knelt before KIKI, pleading. “Wen Qi, I appreciate your kindness, but I feel like I no longer belong in this world. Please, just let me go back.”
KIKI’s face turned rare shades of anger. She shouted, “I told you—it’s all fake! Fake! You managed to escape, and now you can live! Isn’t living better?!”
Her outburst made Lin Xian's face shift. He fell silent, head down, messy hair half-covering his carefully maintained face, voice trembling.
“Your son is on that side. If you stay here, I’ll be sad… I’m still searching for my dad… still looking, always looking. You were supposed to stay with me. You're one of the few familiar people I have left. If you go… I’ll be lonely… I’ll be heartbroken…”
“Wen Qi… just help her this once… for the sake of her being his aunt…” he pleaded, kneeling on the floor, his entire being hollowed out. Whether it was joy, sadness, rage, or despair—none of it was clear anymore. It seemed the world outside that pod was the true nightmare. The moment he stepped beyond the pod, he’d wake up again—in this miserable, unfree world.
KIKI was still angry, but Lin Xian’s words stirred a strange restlessness in her heart. Even if they hadn’t spent much time together, she didn’t want to see Lin Xian choose death like this.
Just as she was about to say more, He Jie suddenly grabbed her arm.
She noticed Lin Xian’s eyes were slowly filling with white threads—signs of an impending mutation due to Dark Invasion.
“Forget it. You’ve already lost the will to live. Even if you stay, the Dark Invasion will soon mutate you into a zombie. So let it be…”
His mental defenses had crumbled. His body was collapsing. His mental strength was on the brink. Under the Polar Night, someone like him would become a zombie in no time—unless forcibly dragged back into the Infinite Train under protection of an Eerie Cube. But even then, that might not save him. He’d be a burden, sinking into endless grief and self-pity, dragging the team down emotionally.
Better to let her die in the illusion, reunited with her son in happiness.
Lin Xian thought for a moment—maybe he could leave Tang Yun’s pod a small robot and an array battery as repayment for the information she’d provided.
KIKI heard this and sighed helplessly.
Tang Yun, seeing no more objections, slowly got up. She staggered, trying to steady herself, lifting her gaze gently across Lin Xian and KIKI’s faces. She wanted to say something—but didn’t. Instead, she gave them a grateful look, turned around, took off her hibernation suit, and walked naked into the activated life pod. She lay down, closed her eyes.
Nearby, Daluo and Shu Qin watched silently, their expressions complicated.
For some reason, Tang Yun’s decision weighed heavier than simply witnessing the death of a survivor.
(Low-frequency activation hum)
Identity verified. Tang Yun. Zero Element ID: 0403. Life Pod activated. Current body temperature: 36°C. Heart rate: 62. Life support system: online.
The voice from the life pod rang out. The lid slowly closed, sealing her off completely.
The pod then moved into the transport tunnel, descending into the hive interior where it was gripped by massive mechanical arms and inserted into a vacant hexagonal mycelium access zone.
Above, Lin Xian, KIKI, and the others watched silently, sighing.
“You think her consciousness really uploaded into the mycelial network?” KIKI finally asked.
“Maybe,” Lin Xian replied. “But the thing is—humanity only has one path left: defeat the darkness. Either humans die out, or we destroy the dark entities. So to us, they’re already dead.”
Clack, clack, clack.
Lin Xian turned around and saw Ding Junyi tapping away seriously on her mobile terminal. On the screen, footage of Tang Yun’s life pod interior appeared.
“I added a brainwave 0-frequency neural interface. If mycelial connection occurs, we might capture some kind of brainwave interference,” she explained without even lifting her head.
Lin Xian was about to respond when she added,
“I didn’t see anything about this in the previous surveillance data. Normally, a facility like this would definitely monitor that frequency. It’s suspicious, so I wanted to watch it more closely.”
He scratched his head, a bit deflated. “Alright then, carry on.”
Ding Junyi was always like this in the lab—succinct, precise, laser-focused. Never wasting time.
And in every possible way, that trait showed through.
Everyone was stunned the moment Lin Xian said that. Shasha was even more horrified—just picturing the scene gave her goosebumps.
“No way, Brother Lin!!” she cried out in a panic.
KIKI, hands on hips, looked smugly at Lin Xian and said, “Alright, but remember—you said it.”
Lin Xian quickly cleared his throat and coughed. “Uh… I was just joking. Let’s not go there. That’s… not exactly a bedtime thought.”
With that, he headed toward Carriage No. 5, ready to set up a new G3 Electromagnetic Railgun.
“Hehe~”
KIKI grinned victoriously, clearly pleased to have left Lin Xian speechless. As he walked away, she suddenly caught up and leaned in close to whisper in his ear, “Hey, I heard that service-type robots back in the day were really... comprehensive. Even had companion features. Want me to throw in a few extra kits for you?”
This girl really knew how to push buttons—she loved watching Lin Xian squirm. But to her surprise, he stopped in his tracks, turned with a knowing smile, and reached out his hand.
“Kits? You know I need blueprint scans to build anything. Go ahead—show me.”
KIKI’s smile froze. She instantly realized she and Lin Xian weren’t talking about the same kind of “kits.” Her cheeks flushed a vivid red, and she exploded on the spot.
“LIN XIAN!!”
“I’ll take a look if there’s time later. Gotta run for now,” he said as he bolted, fleeing her fury.
When he got to Carriage No. 5, Lin Xian got straight to work. He started clearing space and preparing to build the railgun. His plan was to outfit the Infinite Train with two 1130 CIWS units and a G3 Electromagnetic Railgun. That would double their firepower. With the YJ-3 Anti-Air Cannon added in, the 16-carriage train would be a force to reckon with.
“Once the Sun Train connects, we’ll probably need to reshuffle some carriages,” he muttered.
He sat down in a clear area, lifted his hand, and began manufacturing the railgun’s extreme-energy capacitors. Back in Xilan City, the entire train’s integrated electrical system had already been upgraded. All he had to do now was plug the capacitors in properly, and they’d work without a hitch.
“Now we’ve got two nuclear-powered locomotives—one Gemini 11R, 290 megawatts, and one Linglong Industrial 200MW. Three electric locomotives—two Weilong-class, one Huanxing 10A, and my Whale 03E Gas Turbine Locomotive…”
“Six powered engines total…”
Between the Electromagnetic Railgun, 1130 CIWS, YJ-03, Electric Blade Armor, Arc Pulse Resonators, the research and mecha carriages, and over a hundred Power Suits charging—plus the ultra-high-temperature plasma beam cutting array, automated bullet press, and the power-hungry drive systems he planned to install—
Yeah, energy demand was off the charts. While the two nuclear power carriages could generate enough electricity, they’d still need several electric carriages to store and balance the voltage.
Luckily, Lin Xian no longer had to rely on his Mechanical Heart to manually power the entire train. Controlling all 27 carriages wasn’t necessary anymore.
“We’ll put the Huanxing 10A at the front, right behind the gas turbine—like before. That’ll be enough traction.”
But what really bothered him were the two nuclear locomotives. Neither had head-end coupling capability, meaning both had to be placed at the rear. Still, Lin Xian wanted to separate them to avoid both getting taken out at once.
After thinking it through, only one plan remained: split the nuclear engines—one at the front, one at the back—each paired with a Weilong or Huanxing 10A for traction and energy storage.
That meant he’d have to retire his original Whale 03E gas turbine…
“Damn, hard to let go.”
He’d built that engine when his Mechanical Heart was still Level 1 in Jiang City, using the most basic parts. It helped him tear through zombie hordes, climb the Underground City No. 9 Tunnel, charge up the Climbing Elevator, and roll across the Blizzard Snowfields. Though its output had dropped since he stopped using his ability, it had been his loyal workhorse. As a Mechanical Ability User, he couldn’t bring himself to dismantle it.
Maybe once they got through the Polar Night, he’d hang it at the rear as backup. He wasn’t hurting for Mechanical Source Points these days.
As he worked, his Mechanical Manufacturing—now Level 5—made everything faster. Compared to the Hengshan Pass days, this was a breeze. In just over two hours, most of the capacitor array was complete. Another hour and a half later, a new G3 Railgun slowly rose from the roof of Carriage No. 5.
Just as he finished the main cannon and prepared a system diagnostic, he noticed—
He was alone.
Where was Fire Bro?
Something felt off.
He walked over to Lu Xingchen’s room. Empty. Spotless. On the tea table sat an old-style message recorder.
Something wasn’t right.
He waved his hand, activating it remotely with his Mechanical Ability. The device crackled, then played Lu Xingchen’s message.
“Brother Lin, Brother Lou, everyone aboard the Infinite Train… please forgive me for leaving without a word…”
“I’ve been infected by mycelium toxins. I know I can’t endanger you all. And I know I can’t keep going east. So I’m leaving alone—to guard the passage, and give whatever strength I have left…”
Lin Xian’s face darkened.
Lu Xingchen was infected?
How was that possible? There hadn’t been any signs, and KIKI’s Psychokinesis Barrier had been up the entire way. Then again, there was that time during the tunnel disinfection when Fire Bro went off on his own…
“F***!!”
The realization hit him hard. The mix of helplessness and anger overwhelmed him. He grabbed his communicator, about to call Fire Bro—
But before he could, Ding Junyi’s voice came through.
“Lin Xian, we’ve got a situation!”
At the Zero Element Center, Ding Junyi was watching as Tang Yun’s entire head was consumed by mycelium. Her theta band brainwaves were spiking in strange patterns.
Her eyes narrowed—she hadn’t expected this backup measure would lead to uncovering the mycelial network’s real secret.
“Speak!” Lin Xian’s voice came sharply through the comm.
“There’s frequency-6 interference between Lin Xian’s brainwaves and the mycelium connection,” Ding Junyi explained. “That means getting connected to the mycelium isn’t so different from what happened with the hallucinogenic spores. Even if the cerebellum is generating illusion from the user’s own consciousness, the mycelium is resonating with the same neuronal pathways—”
“Get to the point!”
Lu Xingchen adjusted his glasses, gazing at the colossal hive structure.
“That mycelial network is definitely tapping into people’s consciousness. And more than that—it’s actively reconfiguring their neural patterns. The pattern matches individual cognitive structures. That means…”
“The mycelium is using human brains… as computational processors!”
“In other words, the entire network might be capable of recognizing human thoughts—including Lin Xian’s!”
RUMBLE!!
As soon as he finished, a massive tremor shook the underground tunnel. Dust filled the air.
The jolt woke everyone on the Joint Train from their rest. Weapons were grabbed. Communications channels filled with noise.
“What happened?!”
“Are we under attack?!”
“An earthquake?!”
Elsewhere, Chen Sixuan also woke up. Acting on instinct, she suited up in her Black Hawk Armor and contacted Lin Xian.
“Lin Xian, what’s going on?”
“Not sure yet,” Lin Xian said, racing through the tunnels with KIKI. “Professor Chen, alert all convoys—prepare to evacuate!”
“Got it!”
“Brother Shi, Sister Ning! Check the metro tunnel—we may need to pull out!” Lin Xian relayed to Dragon Mountain No.1.
The response was immediate. Shi Diyuan, Ning Jing, Qian Dele of the Joker Convoy, Xiaomeng, Monica of the Monica Queen, Luo Yang, Li Yi, and over a dozen convoy leaders all received the emergency alert.
In every carriage, footsteps pounded through the corridors. The electric locomotive engines began to hum. From one end of the 15-kilometer-long train to the other, limiters disengaged with quiet metallic clicks.
“Move out!”
“Disengage limiters!”
“Reactors heating—boost power!”
“Weapons stations, gunners to your posts!”
Meanwhile, Lin Xian and KIKI raced toward the Zero Element Center.
“So what Ding’s saying is—the mycelium is using human brains as processors and even reading consciousness?” KIKI asked, half-distracted. She hadn’t even finished Grace’s override.
Lin Xian nodded, expression grim. He glanced at surveillance feeds from the Yijin Bank Vault and nearby streets—still calm.
“Still can’t confirm it, but if Ding’s right, we have to prepare for the worst. That quake wasn’t normal.”
“Where to now?”
Lin Xian clenched his teeth. “We find Fire Bro.”
At that moment, atop the Yijin Bank building, Lu Xingchen leaned against the edge of the rooftop, his gaze sweeping across the darkened streets below. His ears were filled with eerie whispers, as if countless nameless things lurked in every alley and shadowed corner. In the sky above, strange tentacles flickered in and out of the clouds. The dense black sticky fog blanketing the city had already begun to fade. When Lu Xingchen looked up, he could clearly see the towering silhouette of the Sky Mushroom Tower and the massive Crown of Shadows overhead. A cold glint passed through his eyes.
“Monsters everywhere… corruption thriving,” he murmured.
Lowering his collar, he struck a flame with his fingertip. On his chest and neck, bluish mycelium had already spread across large patches of skin. He let out a long sigh.
Lu Xingchen picked up a communicator, confirming that the signal was still active. Then, with nothing better to do, he continued burning a gold bracelet he’d picked up from the vault—caked in mud, now wiped clean, and slowly turning red under the dancing flame. He seemed more bored than anything.
After talking to Daluo, Lu Xingchen had decided to leave the Infinite Train. He was afraid the mycelial spores on his body might infect the others. And as a Breakthrough-level Ability User, he feared what he might become if mutated—how dangerous he’d be to the team. So he quietly slipped away, climbed to the rooftop above the Zero Element Center, and now stood guard alone, watching over the train while waiting—calmly—for the mycelium to consume him.
Flick-flick.
Tiny flames danced on the dark rooftop.
“They say real gold fears no fire… and I’ve been burning this thing forever, but it won’t melt. Looks like even my own skills are wearing thin,” he said with a bitter smile, half-joking.
As he gazed down at the slowly blackening bracelet, a faint tremor rippled through the air.
He immediately sat upright, eyes snapping toward the dark outline of the Sky Mushroom Tower.
In the distance, he saw it—massive energy filaments surging through the tower’s intricate root system, climbing like pulsing veins toward the massive mushroom cap overhead. And just like that, the enormous cap—two kilometers in diameter—shuddered.
Lu Xingchen rose to his feet, his expression cold and focused. He narrowed his eyes and said softly, almost reverently:
“Well now... interesting.”
“I could swear... I’m being watched... by a damn mushroom.”
