Therefore, before they set off, Yolanda had deliberately applied an "Anti-Alignment Detection" patch to David, Lizrite, and Mofei—the red, white, and black dragons, respectively.

It wasn't that devils were blind or foolish; even an idiot knew that most Chromatic Dragons were inherently chaotic. However, just as 'a horse sees what its rider decides,' what devils saw was determined by their superiors and money. They would assess one's threat level in advance. As long as you didn't cause trouble in their guarded sector, the problem wouldn't be traced back to them.

An absolutely lawful world was like that; it didn't bring absolute justice. On the contrary, it only bred unprecedented corruption and blatant bureaucracy.

The one thing David hadn't anticipated was that his own father was also a chaotic individual. But, recalling his father's unpredictable principles and conduct, it actually seemed to make sense!

"I... I didn't know either," Attilicia said, her face a mask of innocence, her heart equally filled with uncertainty. Could this be why the God of Justice, Tyr, had never responded to his devotion all these years?

Regardless, this not-so-small trouble had passed.

Only after the group of dragons had waited foolishly at the station of this entry point for half a day did they finally see a "Hell Machine" approach, puffing acrid black smoke. Then, like Indians hanging precariously to the sides of trains, they boarded. It was then that their minds, still muddled from the Ultra-Distance Portal, finally seemed to engage:

"Why don't we just fly directly to Evil Scale Fortress?" they wondered. After all, they were dragons.

The Soul Train was bearable in other respects; it was just too smelly and noisy. The carriages were filled with Soul Shells—husks of beings whose 'divine energy' and remnants of humanity had been wrung dry by a host of devils in the Land of Torment. Their twisted faces were contorted in perpetual, anguished howls. Periodically, the ones whose cries were loudest, most grating, or sometimes even strangely melodious, would be impaled by a Barbed Demon's hook and thrown into the Soul Furnace at the front of the train, serving as fuel for the Soul Train.

Environmentally, Blue Star's "green-skin" trains were ten thousand times superior. The Soul Train's only advantage was perhaps its slightly greater speed, reaching over a hundred kilometers per hour—comparable to the flying speed of most young dragons.

Yolanda, however, simply pointed to the perpetually dim, dark-red sky above.

When David and the others looked up, they saw the fiery red sky, like a gigantic furnace. Periodically, fireballs akin to ball lightning, or massive meteors, would streak across the firmament, crashing thunderously onto the gobi-strewn wasteland. These impacts blasted open the rock strata, revealing layers upon layers of skeletons through charred fissures, from which drifted foul, black smoke. This was the eternal, infernal landscape of Avernus, the gateway to Barto Hell—the burial ground for the perpetual Blood War between devils and demons.

"Do you see those falling fireballs?"

"Huh?"

David suddenly thought of a possibility: Could they automatically target things? That would make them like low-orbit anti-air batteries! Preposterous!

Yolanda explained leisurely, "Legend says that when His Majesty Asmodeus, our Lord of the Nine Hells, was cast down by the dawn gods, the splattering of his blood birthed the devils of today. His unceasing rage transformed into this endless hellfire, falling like myriad stars. Whether this legend is true or not, the hellfire is indeed drawn to 'disruptors of order.' Consequently, whenever Abyssal Demons launch a major offensive on Avernus, these hellfire meteors are at their most spectacular. Strictly speaking, this hellfire is Barto Hell's true first line of defense."

She glanced at David, then surveyed his other followers, who were nearly stupefied by the terribly bumpy journey, and continued, "This hellfire might not significantly affect Your Highness, but your subordinates... they might not be able to withstand it."

David smacked his lips and said no more.

Yolanda somewhat overestimated him. These fireballs varied in size. If he encountered one like a falling meteor, even as a Red Dragon immune to fire, he wouldn't be able to endure many direct hits of that physical force.

Soon, however, the dragons' attention was captivated by a vast, sea-like black expanse on the distant horizon. This time, Yolanda remained silent. For anyone who saw it for the first time would instantly understand what lay before their eyes.

"It's the Styx River... How beautiful," Tania exclaimed, her eyes seemingly sparkling like little stars.

The Styx River was like a vast, invisible serpent, its presence winding through numerous material planes and even the outer planes of the Multiverse. In the material planes, it was intangible, carrying lost souls from the mortal realm towards the squalid torrents of the lower planes. It only revealed its true form in the deepest reaches of these lower planes: Barto Hell and the Abyssal Depths.

Yet, once its true nature was discerned, the beauty hidden behind its mysterious veil vanished.

Looking down from their Soul Train, they could see innumerable Soul Shell Boats adrift on its surface. Countless Barbed Demons, like fishermen, were dredging Soul Shells from the waters of the Styx. Soul Shells were not insubstantial wisps of smoke. On the contrary, they were creatures of flesh and blood, closely resembling their living forms, though utterly squalid. The diseases and injuries from their final moments in life still clung to their bodies.