"Hah..."

Chen Mang let out a long breath, sitting at the control console and rubbing his temples. He was too exhausted to speak. Just days ago, he’d scoffed at the idea that feeding slaves would consume any significant amount of iron ore.

Now, with eight hundred new mouths to feed, his daily food costs had skyrocketed to 1,460 units of ore—and that was with everyone on the lowest, Tier-3 rations. The pressure was crushing. He finally understood why he’d never seen a train with over a thousand slaves.

Who the hell could afford to feed them?

Waking up every day to a deficit of nearly 2,000 units of iron ore was a headache of epic proportions. This wasn’t a one-time expense for some new accessory; this was a daily drain. Any day without a mine was a day of pure loss. Without substantial reserves, if he couldn’t find a new deposit, his entire slave workforce would starve to death.

"Boss Mang, should we... lower their rations?" Lao Zhu asked tentatively. "When we can’t find a mine, maybe two slices of bread per person per day? Like Boss Kun used to do?"

"No."

Chen Mang shook his head, rejecting the idea without hesitation. "The only reason the slaves on the Stellar mine so much more efficiently than anyone else’s is because of two things: our incentives, and the fact that we feed them until they’re full."

"How can you expect a man to work if he’s starving?"

"Besides," he added, "we established the three-tier system for a reason. Changing it on a whim would be a complete mess. We’ll stick to the plan for now."

"Let’s just hope we can find another Level 1 iron mine. Once we get to the Kunlun Mountains and find a Pangolin, we can get the ’Drill’ blueprint. When we return to the Ironridge Wasteland, all the deep-earth ore deposits will be ours for the taking. We won’t have to worry about running out of ore then."

"Understood."

Lao Zhu slowly backed out of the control car, gently closing the door behind him. Only then did he allow himself a faint sigh. Being a Train Captain was no easy job. Every morning, you wake up with this many mouths to feed.

It was like running a company with a thousand employees back before the apocalypse—you’d be a major local enterprise, a huge taxpayer.

Being the Vice-Captain was much better.

No matter who went hungry, it wouldn’t be him. All he had to do was manage the grunts below.

Three hours later, Chen Mang finally located another Level 1 iron mine on the wasteland. This one, however, was already claimed. Another train was parked beside it.

Finding it so quickly was thanks to the "Resource Detection Radar," which now had a ten-thousand-meter range. Back when it was only a thousand, finding ore had been much more difficult.

As the Stellar slowly pulled up alongside the other train, the size difference was comical. It was like an adult standing next to a child.

"Don’t run off just yet. Wait for your slaves to get out of the mine first."

Just as the small, Level 1 train began to accelerate, preparing for a hasty departure, Chen Mang’s voice boomed from the external speakers.

A moment later, a bald, middle-aged man’s head popped out of the train’s sunroof. He pressed his hands together in gratitude, bowing repeatedly. The train obediently came to a halt. Ten minutes later, sixty or seventy slaves scrambled out of the mine, streamed into the small train, and with a final toot of its horn, it sped away.

Only after it was gone did over a thousand slaves, pickaxes in hand, pour out of the Stellar and line up to enter the mine. Biao and his men stood guard, Dragon Assault Rifles at the ready, maintaining order. All the train’s weapon systems swiveled to aim at the slaves, a silent, menacing threat.

Perhaps the show of force was effective.

It had been several days since the new slaves had joined, and after the first day, when a few troublemakers were publicly executed, there had been no more incidents. Their work efficiency, however, was still lagging.

The mine was a half-depleted Level 1 deposit.

By the time night fell it was completely mined out.

The haul was just over 8,000 units of iron ore. After accounting for the day’s food consumption, the net profit was 6,500 units.

The train’s total reserves were now at 55,000 units. He needed 80,000 to build the four Level 10 refrigerators. Still not enough. The search for ore had to continue.

Deep in the night, all the slaves were sound asleep, but Chen Mang was still at the controls, piloting the train through the wasteland in search of a new mine.

"I miss the Apocalypse Abyss..."

He stared out at the star-filled sky, a sense of nostalgia washing over him. Down in the abyss, he’d never had to worry about finding ore; his only problem had been a shortage of slaves. Now, he had more than enough slaves, but there were no mines to be found. And every day, feeding them cost a fortune.

Finally—

At four in the morning, with dark circles under his eyes, Chen Mang found another unclaimed Level 1 iron mine. He didn’t hesitate. The slaves were woken from their rest and sent immediately to work through the night.

"Dammit."

Chen Mang glanced at the noisy, bustling scene outside, then wearily climbed into his bed. It was his turn to sleep.

Three days later, after working around the clock, the mine was completely depleted, yielding 30,000 units of iron ore.

This deposit had been relatively rich.

Adding it to his existing reserves, the train now had over 80,000 units. Without a moment’s hesitation, he crafted four Level 10 refrigerators and placed them in Carriage #10, the goblin slave car.

Goblins were smaller and took up less space, so there was more than enough room for four refrigerators. The oxygen supply might get a little tight, but they could just open the fridge doors and take a few deep breaths. As long as they didn’t die, it was fine.

As for the eight temporary carriages he had built, he fed them all to the "Geocentric Furnace," recouping 400 units of iron ore.

He was about to enter a high-level region. He couldn’t afford to have any unarmored carriages—they would be a fatal weak point. A single attack from any monster in a high-level zone could destroy one.

The remaining 20,000 units of iron ore would serve as his food and energy reserve. It should be enough.

It would last at least ten days.

If he couldn’t find a "Pangolin" within ten days, he’d have no choice but to sell some of his slaves at a gathering. In the Ironridge Wasteland, there was no guarantee of finding a mine every day, and even when you did, they were mostly Level 1 deposits. The daily consumption was just too high; he couldn’t afford to keep them.

Night had already fallen, but Chen Mang had no intention of resting for another night. He slammed his foot on the accelerator, and the long, dragon-like train shot off under the starlit sky, hurtling toward the westernmost edge of the Ironridge Wasteland.

His target—

The Kunlun Mountains.

On a clear day in the wasteland, you could see the mountains in the west.

But as the saying goes, mountains are always farther than they appear.

After a full night of driving at top speed, as dawn was about to break five hours later, the mountain range was finally within reach. But...

"What is this?"

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