Apocalypse: I Built the Infinite Train-Chapter 343: Planetary Transformation

“Fleshbound symbiosis—interesting!”

Mochizuki Shinji was quite approving of Lin Xian’s terminology. He said directly, “There’s a significant technical gap between the two. Human Eerie Entities are, in essence, a variant of zombies—mutated from humans. Of course, there’s every reason to believe they’re trying to push this technology further. It’s not just Crimson World—other organizations, including the Phoenix Society, are conducting similar research. The difference lies only in their goals.”

Since Apocalypse Day, when humans captured the first Eerie Entity, research into dark beings had never ceased. To overcome the global Polar Night Crisis, humanity’s first hurdle was to defeat these unknown entities.

The Phoenix Society studied these entities’ biological forms, communication modes, survival traits, and weaknesses. But this kind of cult-tech development—fleshbound symbiosis—being pursued by Crimson World still left Lin Xian somewhat in disbelief.

“But whether it’s the Mycelial Neural Converter or the Dark Energy Invasion Inhibitor, the mere fact that they could develop such tools proves Crimson World is far ahead of us in dark biology research,” Mochizuki added.

Ning Jing’s expression turned complex. She frowned, “So this Red Skeletal Horror not only possesses human consciousness but can also survive in the dark?”

“Only theoretically.”

Qian Suoxun explained solemnly, “I’ve encountered them a few times. From what I’ve seen—they’re powerful, unaffected by dark invasion, but their minds aren’t entirely controllable. They’re just much harder to deal with than normal Human Eeries.”

KIKI rested her chin on her hand, thinking aloud: “I get it—they probably used digital consciousness transfer with mech neuro-interface tech. But the control of the mycelial brain is still a problem. Otherwise, humans could actually start symbiosing with Eerie Entities to fight back…”

Lin Xian, seated beside her, flinched slightly at her words. An eerie thread of clarity seemed to tighten in his mind.

Adaptation.

Throughout this escape, every survivor had come to realize—the dark was adapting to the world, and humans were adapting to the dark.

After hearing Mochizuki’s explanation of the Abyss Zone’s expansion principle, it seemed even clearer—the dark world might be conducting a planetary transformation of Blue Planet through the mechanism of Dark Tides.

But after encountering that Hive Mother, Lin Xian’s understanding of dark lifeforms had only grown murkier. He once thought the classification of C-, B-, and A-Class Eerie Entities mirrored some sort of dark civilization hierarchy. But now, that framework seemed irrelevant. Human sociology just didn’t apply.

Yet he knew—Phoenix Society, Silent City, and Mochizuki Shinji’s direction—were right. The core issue wasn’t about increasing firepower or evolving individually. It was about understanding the dark.

Only by understanding the invasion and the enemy could humanity understand what it truly faced.

Since Apocalypse Day, there had been no plan, no goal. Until D-100, even official governments remained lost.

Because humanity knew neither the enemy nor the very nature of doomsday, the world collapsed chaotically at dawn.

“So you want us to cooperate—raid Crimson World’s White City Research Facility, retrieve their data, and then get out?” Lin Xian looked at Mochizuki.

“Exactly. Mycelium tech, mechanical symbiosis, and their research on Abyss Zones, dark invasion, Blood Scourge Flora, Forbidden Items—everything.”

Mochizuki smiled, sleeves tucked neatly: “Let’s assume Crimson World has been researching this for over a month. With the time-dilation ratio here, that means over a year of data.”

“And with 1,000 top-level scientists working around the clock using iterative consciousness backups, they’re throwing everything they have into it,” Qian Dele added.

“Wow.” KIKI’s arms crossed, eyes sparkling. “And we’re probably… not the only ones targeting that facility.”

The group fell silent, all realizing how terrifying this really was.

But their biggest immediate concern remained—Crimson World had noticed them. As per Ning Jing’s plan, even if the electromagnetic catapult shuttle worked, they’d still need to launch from White City, making the threat unavoidable. Both the United Train and Noisy City faced immense risk.

“Is there really no way to bypass the self-destruct protocols on the Mycelial Neural Converters?” Qian Bijin asked Ning Jing.

It was a tricky issue. Crimson World clearly invested heavily in secrecy. Even the memory backups were heavily encrypted, and the self-destruct mechanism alone was a major barrier.

These clones had short lifespans. When faced with danger or death, the self-destruct triggered instantly. Coupled with the Abyss’s deadly nature, even if Mochizuki’s team had strong industrial and research capabilities, cracking this would be incredibly difficult.

But Lin Xian simply pointed at the table in front of Qian Suoxun. “You mean this thing?”

Qian Suoxun’s eyes darted down—and froze. Beside his teacup, a brand-new silver neural converter had appeared out of nowhere, identical to the one retrieved from the Crimson World researchers’ corpses.

“What?!”

Qian Suoxun looked utterly stunned. “You—don’t tell me you made this just now?!”

“More or less. I know a thing or two about machinery,” Lin Xian replied casually.

Right after those two corpses were found, Lin had scanned their neural converters. The design was highly integrated, but far simpler than the life support pods and converters he’d previously scanned at the Zero Element Center. With his manufacturing proficiency, reproducing one was practically effortless.

Mochizuki cared about the memory embedded in the converters—but the difficulty was preserving them after death. Lin Xian, however, could control the converter. Even if the clone was smashed to pieces, as long as the brain remained, he could keep the memory intact.

That’s why he hadn’t stressed earlier.

Qian Suoxun stared at the device, then let out a wry laugh: “Heh. We spent a week replicating the microelectrode array and FPGA chips, wrestling with nanoneural probes, and we’re still not done decoding the mycelial shielding material. You did all that in five minutes?”

Mochizuki’s eyes gleamed with interest, clearly even more intrigued by Lin Xian.

“Wow, a week’s still pretty impressive,” KIKI remarked—no sarcasm intended. She knew how tough it was to reverse-engineer this tech without specialized labs. Without Lin Xian’s anomaly-level ability, it would be nearly impossible.

“Alright, back to the second question,” Lin Xian turned to Mochizuki. “Let’s say we succeed. How is Silent City planning to get out?”

To Lin, the greatest threat was the Abyss Zone and the Eerie Entities. If Silent City got targeted by an Abyss Overlord, he couldn’t think of any solution.

Kill the Abyss overlord?

Even with all of humanity united, that was likely impossible—let alone a ragtag group of survivors.

“Good question!”

Mochizuki answered cheerfully: “It’s tricky. My original plan involved using a special type of Blood Scourge Flora. These things are highly attractive to Eerie Lords and above. But best-case scenario, it only increases our escape odds by 2–3%.”

“Now though—I have a new plan. It involves your United Train Convoy and even Hu’s people. We’ll have over a 70% chance of escaping the Abyss.”

“What plan?”

Mochizuki smiled faintly at Lin Xian.

“Launch Silent City into the air, draw the attention of the Abyss Overlord. There’s a saying—‘lure the tiger out of the mountains’. That solves our problem neatly, doesn’t it?”

The room went silent. Everyone stared at him in shock—including Qian Suoxun.

Lin Xian frowned. “Wait—you just said the reason you were stuck here was your main city. Now you want to abandon it?”

He had just talked about leading humanity to the stars, and now he wanted to use Silent City as bait?

KIKI and Chen Sixuan were just as confused, struggling to follow Mochizuki’s logic.

Mochizuki didn’t seem surprised by their reaction. Calmly, he stepped toward Lin Xian and crouched slightly, looking up with interest.

“Lin, your potential is massive. Be bold. If we escape successfully, we can always…”

“Build another Silent City.”

KIKI gasped in disbelief. Lin Xian stared warily at Mochizuki—his expression was serious, his smile unwavering. Unreadable.

The room went dead silent. Then Mochizuki casually added with a chuckle:

“Kidding, don’t take it too seriously. But imagine—wouldn’t you love to see your train fly or cross the Transoceanic Rail one day? Sooner or later, we have to deal with the Sky Dome. With your mechanical ability, building a floating megacity to shelter millions? That would be legendary.”

Lin Xian smiled faintly but said nothing. He saw through it—Mochizuki’s “joke” was a probe, not a real proposal. He wasn’t really going to sacrifice Silent City.

But the idea… had stirred something in Lin Xian. Until now, his entire plan revolved around the Infinite Train. To think of such monumental ambition—it shook him.

He knew, though. Even at his current ability, rebuilding one Infinite Train was hard enough. A floating city? Still a distant dream.

“OK.” Mochizuki stood up. “The real plan is to launch one of the four detachable floating cities in Silent City, overloading it with excess xenon. That’ll create a xenon proliferation effect, exceed the magnetic field limit, and trigger a cascade failure.”

“Long story short—we get a massive dirty bomb. It may destabilize Abyss Zone No. 5, and the Hive Mother might adapt its Eerie Entities to nuclear energy. But… whatever. It buys us time to escape. That’s what matters.”

He delivered the plan as if it had long been ready. It confirmed Lin Xian’s suspicion—Mochizuki wasn’t just planning an escape. He had far greater ambitions.

Then Mochizuki brought up a holographic projection to explain further. His team could last maybe 15 more days. But they’d already made significant breakthroughs: his AI core had developed a material called Black Crystal, which could block dark invasion with 10% efficiency—still experimental, but groundbreaking.

He’d also gathered valuable intel inside the Abyss—comparable to the Dark Mark discovery in Xilan City. And now, with Lin Xian’s appearance, he was pushing the timeline forward.

Lin Xian’s original maglev jump plan remained. But working with Mochizuki would streamline everything—and save them from some nasty surprises in Silent City.

Next, they learned that Crimson World’s secret lab in White City was hidden under the sewage plant—protected by robots, Red Skeletal Horrors, and a floating Lionfish Colossus.

Every 4–6 days, Crimson World deployed a transport ship from a fixed direction. It carried 150 or so cloned “researchers.” Due to time dilation, they’d only be inside for 12 hours by external time.

Their path had been tested through countless “death” experiments—very little chance of Eerie Entity interference. If they died, a new team would follow. The goal was to intercept these clones.

KIKI narrowed her eyes. “But they have to be alive to preserve the memory cores. How do we do that across 1,000 kilometers in the Abyss?”

“They’ve got no shortage of clones,” said the short-haired Amaya Ran. “We’ve seen plenty. They used to be regular survivors.”

Lin Xian added, “What she means is—they must back up the data locally too. If one team fails, the next has to pick up where they left off.”

“You’re right,” Qian Suoxun agreed. “The lab likely has integrated backups. But intercepting the outbound clones is easier and less risky. Those clones carry the latest research progress.”

“And the sewage plant? Aside from Red Skeletal Horrors, there’s that Lionfish Colossus. If anyone sees its face, they’ll suffer dark invasion and some kind of spatial anomaly,” he added.

Now they understood why Shi Diyuan, Ning Jing, and Lin Xian nearly collapsed when they saw that statue—it was the front of the colossus.

Ning Jing said, “I get it. Besides the colossus, it’s mainly robots, Red Eeries, and researchers. We could overwhelm them, right?”

“But then we risk alerting Crimson World. They might trigger self-destruct protocols,” Qian Dele warned. ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom

“Hmph. Didn’t we say already? They know Silent City exists. What’s left to scare them?” Monica crossed her arms. “What I can’t figure out is—if they know we’re watching, why are they so confident? Can they control the colossus?”

“Why did it appear in Aksai and here?” KIKI asked.

“That Lionfish Colossus is a mutated symbol of Lion City. There are three of them. Crimson World took two out of the Abyss to create Dark Wave Anchors, causing erratic expansion,” said Qian Suoxun.

“But how did they move it if it kills anyone who sees it?” Ning Jing frowned.

“Easy. Just throw enough bodies at it. One dies, another looks,” said Ryunosuke, the hooded figure. His eyes never left KIKI—clearly cautious and intrigued by her power.

“No clue beyond that,” Qian Suoxun shrugged. “But if Zones 5 and 7 expand too quickly, all survivors in the Yunjiang Plains will be swallowed by Zones 3–6.”

Silence fell.

“Back to the lab,” Mochizuki broke it. “Their failsafe is simple—use the clones to trigger Dark Marks and summon a monster wave. Once everyone inside dies, they’ll clean up and send a new batch. One day inside is only two hours outside. Extremely efficient.”

Lin Xian stared at him. “But you’ve been active here so long. Won’t they be watching?”

“Which is why we need to act fast. Their one day is twelve of ours. We won’t last that long,” Mochizuki said, smiling.

Lin Xian nodded. The plan was set: during the next low tide (about an hour long), their joint forces would ambush the incoming transport, extract intact memory cores, then immediately launch the maglev jump—coinciding with the Floating City Decoy Plan.

“The next Crimson World mission is likely in 9 hours and 15 minutes,” said Qian Suoxun. “We need to ambush early—margin of error is within two tidal cycles.”

Lin Xian exchanged looks with Ning Jing and the others.

“Alright. Since we’re acting together, you take command.”

But Qian Suoxun chuckled. “Not me. All cameras are under Shinji’s control. We just need to be on the same channel.”

“Fine.”

Lin Xian stood, preparing to brief the United Train crew by Bottomless Lake.

Time wasn’t on their side. Miss this chance, and they’d have to wait for another tide—and face potential counterattacks. If successful, they had to finish the jump before the wave crashed down again.

“Lin.”

Mochizuki called out softly, gaze meaningful. “Can we talk—just us?”

Lin looked back at Ning Jing and Chen Sixuan. Ning Jing nodded. “Don’t worry, Captain Lin—we’ll sync everything with Old Shi.”

Chen Sixuan nodded too.

Everyone filed out, leaving just Lin Xian and Mochizuki Shinji.

“You want to know the full extent of my ability, don’t you?” Lin Xian asked bluntly.

“Something like that,” Mochizuki admitted. “I’ve been curious ever since that annoying merchant traded your intel to me for supplies. Mechanical powers, huh? Don’t you think your ability is… very different from others?”

“Obviously,” Lin Xian replied dryly.

“No, no—I mean really different,” Mochizuki said seriously. “You controlled Qian’s ACS bot in seconds, deactivated its motion module—your power isn’t just touch-based or dark-induced mutation. It has rules. It creates. Honestly... it feels more like—”

He stared straight at Lin Xian.

“—a specialized program… from a higher-dimensional human.”

Lin Xian’s heart skipped. He hadn’t expected that conclusion and didn’t know how to respond.

Mochizuki smiled again. “Sorry. Just wild speculation.”

Before Lin could reply, Mochizuki narrowed his eyes and asked with a faint smile:

“Oh, by the way… that silver bullet—do you have it?”

New novel chapters are published on fr(e)ew𝒆bnov(e)l.com