Armed Train in the Apocalypse

”Bang!”

Su Huan threw himself onto the soft big bed, the faint scent of sunlight enveloping him from all directions.

This is the meaning of the vessel; no matter how the fog rises outside, and how deep the weirdness sinks in, once back to the warm, comfortable room, his state can steadily recover.

After lazing around for a while, Su Huan looked at the green polyhedron in his hand.

This was excavated from the mutated banyan tree, roughly a hundred pieces in total, each size similar to the Pan-energy Crystal, composed of hexagonal polyhedrons.

Some have six faces, some twenty-three, resembling little dice.

They feel soft and quite springy, yet their toughness is extremely high, even sturdier than the Tier One tree trunk.

Light protruded from his fingertips, illuminating the polyhedron in a radiant emerald glow, while a seed-like object sat at the center, from which Su Huan could sense a rich Life Force and some mixed energies whose nature he couldn’t distinguish.

It was these things that attracted him.

His jet-black eyes shifted, and Su Huan directly tossed the polyhedron into his mouth.

”The taste is good.”

Su Huan lay facing the sky, chewing the polyhedron, one moment in the mood to make comments, then suddenly feeling something amiss.

His whole being was in a state of half-sleep and half-wakefulness, like a lucid dream, with the ability to wake up with some effort. However, Su Huan was curious about what tricks this thing could pull, so he let it develop freely.

Accompanied by a slightly piercing cry, Su Huan saw a wrinkled child being held and lightly slapped.

Then handed over to a pale-faced woman lying on the bed by the medical staff.

A lively crowd gathered around, mouths moving to say something, yet Su Huan couldn’t hear anything. When he tried hard to discern the lip movements, even the scene blurred.

It was like a trash game developed by a third-rate company, not even bothering to render places they didn’t want you to see.

And Su Huan was in a third-person perspective, unable to interfere or speak.

Like an all-perspective camera, observing other people’s lives.

This feeling was quite peculiar, as Su Huan quietly watched the ensuing development.

In this state, time passed quickly.

The child grew up in the blink of an eye, running wildly through the village, always followed by a cheerful old man.

The couple left early and returned late, occasionally visiting the child, but each arrival turned the child’s world gray and oppressive.

When school age came, the woman dropped him at kindergarten before work, usually at around six in the morning, though the kindergarten opened at eight, and the child had to play alone on the bouncing bed for two hours.

Then he went to pre-school on his own, and after two years, a group of children was led to primary school by the teacher. The child was sent back because he was a year younger.

Sunshine brightened the cement ground, and the child walked back in bewilderment, hand in hand with the teacher, unsure why, out of so many partners, only he was left.

Time seemed to have fast-forwarded here.

Middle school, high school, university skimmed by, and the formerly wrinkled child had entered society, sitting in a bright cubicle, doing simple paperwork from nine to five.

In the midst of winter, he rode an electric bike to work, shivering from the cold, eyeing his leader’s car with envy.

Su Huan knew that by this time, he had saved thirty thousand yuan; not much, but it was only a year after his graduation.

While he fished for work, browsing the newly launched car with anticipation, the succulent plant on his desk silently grew explosively, swelling to the size of a barrel within a few breaths.

Just as he was about to be astonished, the earth shook, and a vine as thick as a barrel crawled in through the window.

Outside the shattered window, plants were growing wildly everywhere, originally ornamental greenery morphing into the city’s master in the blink of an eye, knee-high shrubs growing into buildings, and the sycamores evolving into giant trees supporting the sky and earth.

Like the world evolving on a sandbox model, compressing hundreds of thousands of years into a mere minute.

Buildings crumbled, traffic fell into chaos, crowds fled...

The apocalypse arrived abruptly.

And this was the last scene visible to the man.

Su Huan could only silently watch all this, watch the child born before his eyes walk towards death before his eyes.

If this were a story, it most certainly would have a flopped author or director behind it.

For the entire story was flat, simply narrating a person’s life from start to finish without twists or growth, barring that unexpected day when the apocalypse and death struck.

No turn of events, nothing worth reminiscing about.

When the realization dawned, the person was already dead.

Su Huan hadn’t figured out what was happening before being pulled into the next memory fragment.

The same delivery room, the same operating room, only that all the people’s faces had changed, the boy turned into a girl.

Entrance exams, graduation, work, engagement...

Then, at her happiest moment, the groom who always looked at her smilingly suddenly turned sinister, his skin ashen green, brutally pressed her below him, and bit open her neck.

Blood stained the red bridal gown.

And the last scene in her eyes was the thorns sprouting from the ninety-nine flowers on the table, piercing through the chaotic crowd and themselves.

The scene changed again, this time a doctor, surviving the initial chaotic apocalypse, only to have his head broken from behind while assisting a wounded person.