Chapter 70: The Endless Carriages and the Vanishing Act

“Master! There’s a problem at the rear of the train! Hurry over!”

It was Zaozao’s voice.

The small, pale blue firefly seemed to be calling out in a panic.

“Alright!”

Soapwort yelled back, her voice hoarse, then turned to call Su Xinxin.

“Let’s go ahead then! Sister Wutong should be able to handle things here.”

Su Xinxin nodded, following Soapwort as they ran towards the rear carriages.

At present, the passengers in the carriages all bore expressions of varying degrees of pain.

After all, they had been trapped on this train for so long, forced to wait and wait, and to place their trust in “magical girls”—figures they had only ever heard of in anime and novels—to save them.

Earlier, someone had even grabbed a safety hammer, threatening to smash a window for air.

Someone else had guessed his true intention: he wanted to escape, to leap from the elevated bridge, a dozen meters high.

Fortunately, Wutong had stopped him with the sound of her qin (a traditional Chinese stringed instrument). Otherwise, the consequences would have been unimaginable. With monsters still lurking outside the train, who could guarantee they wouldn’t be attacked upon leaving? Staying here, at least, offered Wutong’s domain as a layer of protection.

This train, at this moment, was like a besieged city. Those inside could not escape, and those outside could not enter.

Yet, some continued to cry out, “For freedom, I would gladly abandon my life.”

Only a few people remained silent, their heads bowed.

One among them even retorted, “Ah, freedom, how many use your name as a pretext for their deeds.”

Soapwort and Su Xinxin initially surmised that the rearmost carriage was likely experiencing a similar small-scale disturbance.

However, the further back they went, the more they sensed something was amiss.

How long had they been walking?

This subway train had only six carriages in total, so why did more and more keep appearing ahead of them?

Was this… a spatial distortion? Or could this also be an endless… carriage?

Soapwort and Su Xinxin both frowned.

Even stranger, each carriage before them was different.

Some carriages held passengers who were spirited, laughing and chatting; others were empty, with only a few drowsy individuals slumped in their seats; and one particular carriage had no room to sit, nor even to stand, so tightly packed it was.

These were not the low-quality, looping scenes visible outside the windows—the repetitive buildings, billboards, and twilight sky, which one could discern as fake after a brief glance. These carriages, however, each felt impossibly real, as if directly transplanted from another subway line.

Soapwort tried to stop, but she found her body unresponsive. Her legs continued to move forward, as if being pulled by something, forcing her to push through the crowd.

Su Xinxin experienced the same. She tried to resist, yet her steps would not cease.

‘Foam Weave Curtain – Protect!’

Soapwort thought of a solution, silently chanting the incantation in her mind.

Then, the Clear Dew bottle hanging from her person quivered slightly as if conscious. The clear dew at its mouth instantly transformed into countless transparent bubbles, silently surging towards Su Xinxin, wrapping around her in a thin, protective layer.

“Gentian! Run back!”

Soapwort strained to shout the words.

Although her voice was largely swallowed by the surrounding din, Su Xinxin fortunately heard her.

Su Xinxin paused, then realized that Soapwort had temporarily protected her with her ability, allowing her to break free. She didn’t ask further questions, instead trying Soapwort’s method. She abruptly turned around and ran towards the front of the train.

Meanwhile, Soapwort continued to be uncontrollably pulled towards the rear of the train.

The moment they surged in opposite directions, the sensation of being dragged by something snapped, like a rope stretched to its breaking point finally giving way.

The feeling of restraint vanished instantly, and their legs were once again under their own control.

The surrounding scenery also flickered, like the static on an old television screen changing channels.

They found themselves standing again at the connection between the second and third carriages. Normal passengers, normal seats, normal lighting surrounded them, indicating a return to reality.

Soapwort gasped for breath, then spoke again.

“It’s fine now. Quickly, go to the rear of the train and find Zaozao.”

They continued forward. This time, after only one carriage, the sensation returned.

The carriages ahead began to stretch infinitely once more, an endless series emerging one after another, each distinct from the last.

And now, the carriage they were in had also changed.

Amidst this transformation, Soapwort suddenly felt a sense of incongruity. Did this feel like a dream? She also recalled that Su Xinxin hadn’t spoken a word yet. Could she…

Soapwort abruptly stopped, turning to stare at her.

“Gentian! Say something so I can hear you!”

Su Xinxin showed a perplexed expression, opening her mouth, only to find no sound emerged.

“Speak! Anything will do!” Soapwort urged, growing anxious.

Su Xinxin gestured with her hands, pointing to her mouth and then spreading her palms in a helpless shrug.

Soapwort watched her, her pupils slightly contracting. She recoiled several steps, even knocking over a “passenger’s” suitcase.

The suitcase, having fallen to the ground, suddenly writhed violently as if alive. Its zipper tore open on its own, revealing its “mouth.”

Inside the suitcase’s “mouth” were no clothes, no other luggage, only a mass of dark greenish-brown, slimy, reflective matter. It resembled seaweed, yet was far thicker, coiled within the case like a curled-up insect, or perhaps the tentacles of this suitcase-monster. The moment the lid sprang open, it dramatically unfurled, writhing like waves, emitting wet, sticky sounds.

Soapwort froze, seized by a single, overwhelming sensation: disgust!

‘Zaozao! Mama Daylily! Sister Wutong! Sister Epiphyllum! Come save me!’

She desperately cried out in her mind, but there was no response.

The repulsive mass, along with the suitcase, lunged at Soapwort like a snake emerging from a hole. The serrated zipper-teeth along the edge of its maw splayed open, revealing densely packed, fine teeth, hissing with a wet, sticky sound.

Soapwort instinctively retreated, the Clear Dew bottle already clutched in her hand—

But halfway through its charge, the creature suddenly veered.

Its speed was much faster than before, like an arrow shot from a bow, heading straight for Su Xinxin.

The “Gentian” still stood rooted to the spot, the confusion not yet faded from her face, her eyes vacant, like an empty shell without a soul.

The dark greenish-brown tentacles quickly wrapped around her ankle, preparing to drag her into its maw.

“Gentian!” Soapwort cried out.

Without time to think, she aimed the bottle’s opening in that direction, splashing out the remaining clear dew.

She certainly had no time to cast a spell; she could only hope that the intrinsic purifying power of the clear dew itself would be effective.

The clear dew scattered in the air, drenching Su Xinxin’s head and face.

Su Xinxin shivered violently, as if pulled from water.

She had inexplicably fallen into another brief dream just now, her body almost entirely out of her control. The splash of water from Soapwort had forcefully dragged her back.

But now…

She opened her eyes to see a large, seaweed-entwined suitcase mouth gaping open towards her. The densely packed, fine teeth gleamed coldly under the lights, like rows of zipper-teeth.

She instinctively dodged to the side, but her head struck the train wall.

‘Ow—it hurts, it hurts! My head is spinning… so many stars…’

‘Clear Scent, Full Heart – Encourage.’

She pressed her hand to her head, forcing herself to regain clarity.

When she looked up again, the monstrous mass had once more turned towards Soapwort.

It was incredibly fast, too fast for Soapwort to evade. The tentacles wrapped around her ankles, her waist, her arms like snakes, dragging her whole body into the suitcase.

“Gen—”

Soapwort managed only one syllable before the monster blocked her mouth and pulled her inside.

The suitcase lid snapped shut, then simply lay on the ground, appearing like an ordinary piece of luggage.

The area suddenly fell silent.

Su Xinxin lunged forward, laboriously prying open the suitcase lid.

It was empty. There was nothing inside the suitcase.

No Soapwort, no monstrous mass, only a thin layer of slimy, dark green liquid shimmering under the lights.

She knelt on the ground, trembling uncontrollably.

A living person had simply vanished before her eyes.

She looked up, noticing that the surrounding “passengers,” despite the recent battle, weren’t looking at her, weren’t discussing her, and no one had even pulled out their phone to take pictures or videos to post on social media!

Those people seemed like projections, each engrossed in their own activities. They couldn’t see her, nor could they see the monster.

All of it was fake. It seemed this entire carriage was an illusion.

So, where exactly was this place?

****

At the front of the subway train.

Wutong’s fingers rested on the zither strings, unplucked. Her eyes were closed, yet every subtle fluctuation within her domain could not escape her perception.

She sensed it: Soapwort’s aura had vanished.

That young girl from the Hua Ying Division had also disappeared.

She opened her eyes, her amber gaze deepening in the dim light. Rising, she walked to the carriage where they had vanished.

The passengers in this carriage were still the same: sighing, staring blankly, anxious, in pain, clinging to a beautiful dream, nursing helpless frustrations.

Everything appeared normal, except for one detail—

A suitcase lying on the floor.

The suitcase was dark green, its surface heavily worn, as if it had been used for many years. It sat there quietly, blended with other luggage, utterly inconspicuous.

But Wutong remembered. She had already imprinted every object that should exist within the train into her mind.

Wutong merely sensed it for a moment, then hesitated no longer.

She plucked a zither string, and a golden sound wave shot from her fingertip, transforming into a sharp blade that soared directly towards the superfluous suitcase…

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