My Apocalypse Train

Translator: AnubisTL

They camped overnight.

As dawn broke, the Stellaris roared across the wasteland, hurtling toward coordinates 239,1923.

This wasteland was originally called the Iron Ridge Wasteland before the apocalypse, but perhaps because the name was too cumbersome, many people now preferred to call it the No-Man's Wilderness.

Four hours later, the Stellaris's speed gradually slowed. At first, not a single train was visible, but in the second half of the journey, they began to spot a few scattered trains. Now, they occasionally saw one, and they were only a step away from their destination.

Finally—

When the train came to a halt, Chen Mang, seated at the control panel, glanced at the huddled crowd in the distance. A strange glint flashed in his eyes.

The Gathering had arrived.

He hadn't expected it to be so rudimentary. There wasn't even a tent. The train conductor and his thugs simply walked to the Gathering to trade. For safety reasons, all trains had to stop a thousand meters away.

This Gathering had no formal organizers, forming entirely through mutual consensus. Chen Mang, following local custom, parked his train a kilometer away from the gathering site. He then stepped out of the carriage with Biaozi, Old Pig, and three other thugs, leaving the remaining thugs inside to maintain order and guard against unexpected incidents.

Standing on the wasteland, Chen Mang leaned on his cane and glanced back at his train. With this cane, he could remotely control his Stellaris.

He had conducted experiments, confirming a control range of about a kilometer.

In case of an emergency, a mere thought would summon his Stellaris to his side, allowing him to escape the area instantly.

He had never seen so many trains gathered in one place. At least forty or fifty trains were parked here. Before, he had no real concept of his own train's strength. But after seeing so many others, he realized his Stellaris might actually be pretty decent.

At least twenty of the trains here hadn't even fully armored their carriages.

Was it really that difficult?

With just a hundred slaves and a Tier 1 Iron Ore, anyone could have reached his Tier after half a month of steady development. Why were there so many trains that looked even more pathetic than his?

His main trading targets for the day were two people.

One was the Bloodthirsty Mad Bull Train.

The other was the King of Electronic Music Train.

Both of them had a considerable amount of Spider Silk, and he had already arranged to meet them at the end of the Gathering. For now, he planned to take Old Pig and the others to explore on their own.

"Old Pig," Chen Mang said, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed the bustling crowd nearby. "You used to be a deputy train conductor. How much do you know about the Gathering?"

"Absolutely nothing," Old Pig replied firmly, shaking his head. "To participate in the Gathering, you generally need to be a Tier 2 train. Unless you have other means of obtaining the Gathering's coordinates, my previous train never attended, and I've never come to watch."

"Let's go," Chen Mang said without further questioning, leaning on his cane as he led the way in a low voice. "Let's take a look."

Biaozi and the remaining three thugs followed closely behind, their Soaring Dragon Assault Rifles held at the ready, their faces grim.

At a glance, every train conductor was followed by a few thugs, ranging from two or three to a dozen or more. However, the primary source of combat strength for a train wasn't its thugs but the train itself.

The thugs' main duties were more focused on exploring ruins, scavenging supplies, patrolling and guarding, maintaining order, engaging in small-scale skirmishes, and protecting the train conductor during their outings.

This sounded far more complex than being a slave.

A slave only needed to know how to swing a pickaxe.

Most train conductors maintained a respectful distance from one another, avoiding excessive eye contact to prevent misunderstandings. They all tacitly entered the Gathering, either strolling around or finding empty spots to sit and display their tradeable items on wooden boards.

There were only forty or fifty train conductors in total, making this a small gathering with limited options.

The Gathering's route was simple: a single line running north to south. Many train conductors sat along this line, waiting for others to approach them for trade.

Chen Mang strode into the Gathering with Old Pig and the others. The first stall they encountered had two lines written on its wooden board:

"Seeking to purchase various Green Grade and above Vehicle Component Blueprints. High prices offered."

"Slaves for Sale."

"How much for a slave?"

Chen Mang looked at the white-haired old man sitting behind the stall and squatted down to ask. This was the first time he'd seen a train conductor this old; he looked to be well over seventy.

The old man, who had been feigning sleep, sized Chen Mang up and down.

"Young adults: 500 Units of Iron Ore. Elderly or disabled: 300 Units of Iron Ore."

"Women's prices vary, ranging from 300 Units of Iron Ore to 1,000 Units of Iron Ore."

"..."

Chen Mang narrowed his eyes slightly, calculating. The apocalypse had brought about the collapse of the monetary system, and Iron Ore, a mainstream resource, had become the new currency. Everyone needed Iron Ore, and no one had enough.

A healthy young adult could mine about 10 Units of Iron Ore per day, meaning the payback period would be around 50 days.

This calculation assumes they can consistently find Iron Ore within the 50-day timeframe.

The price felt inflated to him.

The logic here differed from the Pre-Apocalypse era. Back then, any business that could recoup its investment in 50 days was likely illegal. The only ventures that weren't were exceptional opportunities.

In the apocalypse, however, the uncertainties within 50 days were simply too numerous. Hoarding so much Iron Ore instead of upgrading the train's strength seemed rather irrational.

So he was genuinely curious if anyone would actually trade Iron Ore for slaves.

"If you're interested, I can show you my train. The quality is quite good."

The elderly man with white hair glanced at the Soaring Dragon Assault Rifles held by Biaozi and his companions. After clearing his throat, he began his sales pitch with a serious expression.

"Young man, your train must be quite powerful."

"If you're buying in bulk, we can negotiate the price further."

"Last time, someone bought a large number of slaves from me. They've probably already left the No-Man's Wilderness for resource-rich Zones. With so many slaves, finding a good mine would let them recoup their investment in just a few dozen days. After that, every day would be pure profit."

"That guy was a big player. He bought 100 slaves from me in one go—all prime young adults."

"..."

Chen Mang remained silent, simply pulling out a cigarette from his pocket, lighting it, and sighing softly.

He was genuinely curious: who would spend 50,000 Units of Iron Ore to buy 100 slaves?

With that much Iron Ore, they could have done so much more. They could have almost fully equipped a Tier 2 train! Why buy so many slaves?

In the long run, it was undoubtedly a profitable investment.

If they found a Tier 2 Iron Ore mine, the payback period would be drastically shortened.

But...

In the apocalypse, there was no such thing as a long run. No one knew what tomorrow would bring. Planning for the long term required first securing the short term. Unless this person was a fool, they must have real power.

(End of the Chapter)

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