Inside the cockpit, Chen Mang stood at the control console, raising a pair of binoculars to his eyes. He scanned the horizon. Not a single thing moved. It was silent—a silence he'd grown used to over the last few days on the wasteland.

Still, something about it felt... strange.

After all, back in Boss Kun's slave car, he remembered the guards being on high alert at all times. Even when the train was stopped and there was no major horde, there were always scattered monsters.

But in the four days since he'd become captain, he hadn't seen a single one.

It was just... quiet.

The cockpit's glass window offered a 180-degree view, covering the front and sides. Chen Mang climbed onto the console, opened the skylight on the roof, and scanned the area behind the train. Still nothing.

Only after completing his checks did he let out a long sigh of relief. He hoped today would be another quiet one. With that, he turned his attention to the resource count on the train's panel.

4,819 units of Iron Ore.

This was the sum of his accumulation over the past four days. After today, he could finally upgrade to a Level 2 train. Everything was proceeding in an orderly fashion.

Just then—

A commotion started up outside the train. The slaves were awake. They took their pickaxes from the enforcers and began heading toward the mine entrance. In the past few days, Lao Zhu had established a basic routine, and Chen Mang no longer needed to oversee these things himself.

Once all the slaves were in the mine, Chen Mang started on his breakfast. Lao Zhu had already brought him steaming hot buns and a packet of pickled mustard greens—the best food available on the train.

"Sigh."

He glanced at the pickles in his hand and sighed softly. Buns and pickles weren't bad, but a man couldn't eat the same thing every single day. He was already craving a change of pace. Then again, he wasn't even sure how they got the pickles in the first place.

Was there a production line for them on a Level 2 train, or were they scavenged from the city ruins?

He'd confiscated a good amount from Boss Kun's train and still had over eighty packs left. But once those were gone, he wouldn't even have pickles to go with his buns.

If only he had some chili crisp, or maybe a meat sauce. A cigarette would be even better. He hadn't smoked in days, and the craving was starting to gnaw at him.

Chen Mang chewed his bun, his mind drifting.

Time ticked by.

"Vice-Captain Zhu."

Outside the train, Biao found Lao Zhu and licked his lips, asking tentatively, "I heard you used to be a vice-captain, too?"

"What about it?"

Lao Zhu glanced up at Biao for a second before returning his attention to the small notebook in his hand, scribbling something down as he stood on the wasteland.

"Nothing."

Biao scratched his head. He had specifically told Hei Wa not to tell anyone he'd been a captain before. For Lao Zhu, being a former vice-captain was a bonus. For Biao, being a former captain was a liability.

He had already accepted his fate. Being a train captain wasn't something you could pull off just by getting lucky and finding a Train Token.

But he couldn't count on Boss Mang believing that.

It was just like in the old world—if a former boss went back to being an employee, there was bound to be a huge psychological gap, and he'd naturally start getting ideas he shouldn't have.

If Boss Mang thought he was still dreaming of being a captain again, his life on The Stellar wouldn't be comfortable. He might just find his head and his stomach sleeping in separate beds.

"It's just... there's something I need to report to you, Vice-Captain Zhu."

Biao gave a fawning smile and lowered his voice. "It's about that nearby city ruin, Taiping City (太平市 - Peaceful City). I know it's been scavenged by a lot of people over the years, but I know a tobacco and liquor store in the suburbs."

"The owner used to deal in contraband cigarettes, and he had a hidden compartment in the store full of them. I'm sure no one's found it yet."

"I've noticed Boss Mang seems to be craving a smoke these last few days. How about we make a trip to Taiping City?"

"Hmm?"

Lao Zhu hesitated for a moment. He knew Biao was trying to curry favor with him by sharing this information. If he reported this to Boss Mang and they successfully recovered dozens of cartons of cigarettes, he would be rewarded for it.

But...

"The train is still Level 1. We'll talk about it after the upgrade. Right now, the most important thing is getting the train to Level 2."

"But I'll keep this in mind," Lao Zhu added.

"When the time comes and we find the cigarettes, I'll be sure to tell Boss Mang that you were the one who provided the information."

"Heh heh."

Biao chuckled, scratching the back of his head. "Great. Well, I won't disturb you anymore, Vice-Captain Zhu. I'll get back to my patrol."

But inwardly, he was cursing. This Vice-Captain Zhu might act all harmless and suck up to Boss Mang like a dog, but anyone who could survive this long in the apocalypse—let alone become a vice-captain—was no simple character.

If he didn't suck up a little, the man would probably find a way to screw him over later.

Getting lucky was enough to become a train captain, but being a vice-captain required skill and ability. And while luck could make you a captain, becoming a qualified captain? That was a whole different level of difficulty.

Take him, for example.

To have survived in the apocalypse until now—to put it bluntly, he knew he wasn't a saint either.

A year ago, the apocalypse had arrived.

When the order instantly collapsed, two groups of people gradually formed.

One group was the train captains of the wasteland. The other was the survivors in the cities.

These survivors, either lone wolves or gangs, would find a relatively safe place in the city, like an air-raid shelter or some other large-scale infrastructure, and spend their days scavenging for supplies like squirrels. They managed to get by.

Of course, once these people were captured and brought onto a train, their names changed from "survivor" to "slave."

After the apocalypse, all firearms had become useless. These people had little means of fighting back against monsters and mainly survived by hiding.

Level 1 monsters, like Level 1 zombies, were the most basic type.

And only Level 1 monsters could be killed by conventional means, like axes. For Level 2 and 3 monsters, only vehicle accessories or weapons forged on a train's production line could cause effective damage.

To put it even more bluntly...

There were only two kinds of people in this world.

Train captains and slaves.

In the blink of an eye...

Night fell. The slaves trickled back from the mine, returning to their nest like diligent worker ants.

"Excellent!"

Inside the cockpit, Chen Mang sat at the control console and looked at the resource count on the panel, a satisfied smile spreading across his face.

After this latest batch of iron ore was piled up in the warehouse of Carriage #2...

The total had finally reached 6,012 units.

"Oh, heavens above."

Chen Mang pressed his palms together, tilted his head back slightly, and took a deep breath to suppress the excitement in his heart. "You do listen to prayers," he murmured. "Today passed peacefully again."

"Since that's the case..."

"How about you bless me with another seven days of stable mining here?"

"Heaven, you truly are the best."

"I'll light an incense stick for you later."