Chapter Fifty-Nine: The Chosen One, Fan Tianxing

At that moment, Feng Tianlin happened to witness the five strangers distributing pieces of human flesh to the people inside the compartment.

“Damn, these humans are truly vicious, eating their own kind,” Feng Tianlin muttered to himself, shuddering despite his familiarity with bloodshed. Although their feeding frenzy was not as wild as what he had seen in the previous two carriages, it was still human flesh—how could they just eat it like that?

He quickly noticed a few people who refused to partake: the three A-level Spirit Tamers he’d been pursuing earlier, who were now retching in disgust.

Soon after, he overheard their conversation, which left him both amused and exasperated.

“So, these brats are actually planning to come after me? They really don’t know what’s good for them,” he thought, a plan beginning to form in his mind.

At the entrance to the compartment, a man in Daoist robes suddenly appeared. He was somewhat older, and upon entering, his eyes widened in astonishment.

“What on earth happened here? How did things come to this?” he exclaimed, looking thoroughly bewildered.

The passengers barely spared him a glance, while the Daoist from earlier sneered with open disdain.

“Look, another unfortunate soul has arrived, and he’s a Daoist from the looks of it. If I’m not mistaken, that’s the robe from a temple in Tianjing City—must be another unlucky priest from there.”

“Tianjing City?” The trio known as Raccoon, Dull Bird, and Skinny Turtle were all taken aback. Wasn’t that place already overrun by grotesque creatures?

But after a moment’s thought, they realized it made sense—this Daoist had probably boarded the train while fleeing those abominations.

Dull Bird even beckoned him over, “Hey, newcomer, come sit with us.”

The Daoist smiled and joined them, handing out cigarettes to each. “My name’s Feng Tianlin. Can any of you tell me what’s going on with this train?”

Everyone accepted the cigarettes with visible delight; after all, who knew how long they’d be trapped here? Cigarettes were a rare luxury now—especially for the Daoist, who clutched his cigarette with trembling hands, his eyes brimming with tears of gratitude.

Seeing this, Feng Tianlin considerately lit the Daoist’s cigarette for him. The priest collapsed onto his seat, gazing at the ceiling as he took a deep drag, exhaling the smoke and sniffing at it with relish.

“Never thought I’d live to savor another cigarette. It’s absolutely divine.”

Raccoon and his companions lit up as well, the act of sharing a cigarette drawing them closer to Feng Tianlin.

Sensing the moment was right, Feng Tianlin asked, “So, what are your names?”

The Daoist spoke first. “I’m Li Buchun, and this is my junior brother, Bai Wuying.”

The trio introduced themselves in turn.

“Raccoon.”

“Dull Bird.”

“Skinny Turtle.”

“Brother, you came from Tianjing City, didn’t you? What’s the situation there now?” Li Buchun asked, cigarette dangling from his lips.

With that, Feng Tianlin realized the Daoist and his junior were modern folk, just like the trio—no need to wonder further.

But what was going on in Tianjing City? Feng Tianlin had no idea, except that it had been overrun by grotesque creatures. He decided to improvise.

“Sigh... The outlook isn’t good. Monsters run rampant, people perish every day. The Bureau of Paranormal Investigation was destroyed by that doll... Oh, how I hate myself for being unable to protect the city’s people!”

He even wiped at imaginary tears, as if deeply grieved.

Dull Bird patted his shoulder. “Brother, with only E-level power, there’s not much you could’ve done. Blame the old director of the Paranormal Investigation Bureau in Ling City—he was a real fool. But don’t worry, there’s a new director now.”

He paused, realizing he might have said too much, and glanced at Raccoon to gauge his reaction. Seeing no objection, he continued.

“Our new director is Fan Tianxing, young master of the Fan family in the capital! The Fan family—one of the great clans of Huaxia! But that’s not the important part. What’s truly amazing is our Director Fan can foresee the future. You heard me right—he can predict what’s to come!

“He foretold the resurgence of the supernatural over a decade ago. Do you know why Huaxia has remained so stable? It’s all because of Director Fan’s work behind the scenes.

“He can locate ancient tombs just by looking at a map, and from the capital, he knows when a new anomalous space will appear in Ling City—that’s why he brought us here; Tianjing City was only a side mission. Even this train investigation was ordered by him! It’s as if he knows everything. He’ll soon personally reclaim Tianjing City, so you needn’t worry about the people’s safety.”

Feng Tianlin’s mind buzzed. Chosen by fate? A prophet? Was this the legendary protagonist?

If he’s the protagonist, then what am I?

After a long moment of contemplation, Feng Tianlin made up his mind: This man cannot be allowed to live.

“Hahaha, that’s wonderful news. So, when will we be able to leave?” he asked.

The question left Dull Bird speechless. Leave? How would anyone know that?

Helpless, he pointed toward Li Buchun and his junior. “Those two have been here the longest. Ask them.”

Bai Wuying, having finished his cigarette, tossed the butt aside and pointed to the floor. “Each mark on the floor stands for a day I’ve spent here. Count them and you’ll know how long I’ve been trapped.”

Feng Tianlin counted, then feigned shock. “You’ve lived here for over a year and haven’t managed to leave?”

He glanced at the other passengers. “Is it the same for everyone?”

Bai Wuying shook his head and gestured toward a group of oracles. “See those? They’re from the Sunset Dynasty. They boarded half a year ago. We don’t share a language, so we’ve never spoken.”

Everyone looked in the oracles’ direction.

Half a year ago? Feng Tianlin scratched his head. That matches the time when Qi Xuan and the others boarded. Could they also be from the era of anomalies?

He asked, as if absent-mindedly, “Why are they dressed like that? Their clothes look ancient.”

“Who knows? Maybe that’s the traditional garb of their oracles,” Bai Wuying replied indifferently.

“No, I once attended an exchange in the Sunset Kingdom. Their clothes aren’t like that at all. These outfits resemble what they wore in their Middle Ages, during the era of anomalies,” Skinny Turtle said, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

“Why not just ask? You’ve been to the Sunset Kingdom, you must speak their language,” Dull Bird said, picking his nose.

“I... I know a little, but not very well... Hey, don’t drag me!” Skinny Turtle began, but Dull Bird pulled him toward the oracles before he could finish.

Feng Tianlin and Bai Wuying shook their heads and followed. They soon saw Skinny Turtle wildly gesticulating before the oracles, who only looked on in utter confusion.

Feng Tianlin listened in and immediately understood—Skinny Turtle’s attempt at the language was an incomprehensible jumble, like a construction worker’s pidgin; it made no sense at all.

He pointed to himself, “Me,” then to the oracles, “You,” and finally made a couple more gestures, “Ask question.”

His words combined at least three languages, and sounded less like he was speaking to people from another country and more as if he were trying to communicate with aliens.