Chapter Twenty-Two: The Mysterious Train in the Raspy Old Gunman's Tale

Do you know this? When humans lie, their gaze is the most resolute. Because you are certain you’re lying, there’s no need for hesitation at all.

But normally, when faced with accusations of lying, people tend to show confusion—their eyes shift elsewhere, subconsciously recalling what they’ve just said. So, what exactly is your ability?

Old Gun stared intently at Gao Ning, then suddenly burst into laughter.

“Amazing, amazing! Are newcomers nowadays all this formidable? It’s almost impossible to survive!”

He shook his head. “Well, no matter how you figured it out, you’re right. My ability isn’t shape-shifting, but rather an item called the Gaia Foundation.”

“This thing—have you heard of it?”

Gao Ning’s eyes widened in astonishment.

Gaia Foundation? Even Imperial Tools exist here?

Old Gun sighed. “I’ve been spending more time watching cartoons with my daughter...”

The mention of his daughter was unconscious. His body stiffened, eyelids lowering slightly.

“I don’t know where the Gaia Foundation originates from, but its effects are most peculiar. Through makeup, you can perfectly disguise yourself as another person. Not only can you mimic humans, but even animals of roughly the same size. As long as the size difference is within thirty percent, the disguise is seamless—it’s as if you’ve truly become someone else. Your movements naturally mirror those of the target, without any need for conscious effort.”

Gao Ning was familiar with the Gaia Foundation’s effects and hastily asked, “Where’s the makeup case? Can I take a look?”

“Don’t be so naïve!” Old Gun shook his head. “Although the Mysterious Train doesn’t forbid theft, basic skills cannot be stolen; others can’t even see them!”

Gao Ning was speechless.

“I’m not trying to rob you—I just want to see what an Imperial Tool looks like.”

“Imperial Tool?” Old Gun looked baffled.

This time, he truly wasn’t pretending; he had absolutely no idea.

Well, judging by his scruffy beard, he must be at least forty or fifty years old. It’s only natural he wouldn’t know.

Old Gun had survived so many worlds, so he was a clever man. Seeing Gao Ning fall silent, he immediately caught on.

“So that’s what these things are called—Imperial Tools, huh? Seems there are other types as well! That’s valuable information. Thank you!”

Gao Ning was feeling a bit frustrated now.

Clearly, he held the initiative as the interrogator, yet he’d ended up divulging information instead.

His mind flashed to the scene of Black Widow being tied to a chair, interrogating the Russian general in reverse.

The frustration grew.

After all, Gao Ning wasn’t a bloodthirsty killer. Besides, in the Mysterious Train, hostilities were relatively subdued; things rarely escalated to life or death. He had no interest in murder—he possessed the Red Alert golden finger, and the future looked promising.

There was no need to stain his soul over someone inconsequential.

Perhaps sensing the change in Gao Ning’s expression, Old Gun spoke. “Seems you don’t quite know where to begin your questioning. Let me share some useful information with you. But, before that, could you let me go? You have so many subordinates guarding me with rifles—what are you worried about?”

Gao Ning considered and nodded. He gestured, and one of the soldiers stepped forward to untie Old Gun.

Old Gun nodded in thanks, but the soldier’s face remained expressionless, offering no reaction.

Rubbing at the marks on his wrists, Old Gun remarked, “Impressive—where did you find these men? Their discipline is remarkable!”

Gao Ning simply watched him.

Seeing Gao Ning had no intention of answering, Old Gun didn’t mind. He spread his hands to the nearby soldier on alert, then slowly reached into his inner pocket and produced a pack of cigarettes.

He deftly lit one and exhaled a plume of smoke.

“Don’t worry, it’s just an ordinary cigarette! I’m not capable of smoking knockout gas and staying conscious!”

Old Gun shook his head. “Among newcomers on the Mysterious Train, vigilance is at its peak. You all suspect every move is meant to harm you.

But that’s unnecessary. Unless you encounter a particularly deranged demon team, deaths are rare.”

He took another drag, flicked the ash, and after some thought, continued, “What’s important for you now is the basic situation of the angels and demons.

Let me explain it simply. The Angel Team—that’s my own name for them.

In reality, none of the carriages have official names; we’re only assigned carriage numbers.

From what I know, the Angel Teams are always odd-numbered, while the Demon Teams are even-numbered.

Whenever we enter a station—a mission world—it’s usually an even number of carriages.

The carriages are generally connected; for every odd-numbered carriage, there’s an even-numbered one.”

Gao Ning nodded in understanding.

“Missions aren’t absolute. If you have no urgent desire to return to reality, you can treat different worlds as tourist stops, sightseeing as much as possible when there’s no threat to your life.

Of course, not every world is as tranquil as this one. Typically, every three to five worlds, a catastrophic event will occur—like a terrifying cruise ship, or a biological disaster.

So perpetual idleness isn’t an option. If you don’t strive to get stronger, you’ll eventually die in a mission world!”

Gao Ning said, “So there’s no such thing as a free lunch!”

“Oh, there is! Just not for you!” Old Gun chuckled.

“Those drawn into the Mysterious Train are usually people who died unexpectedly. It’s impossible to arrive here from natural causes.

Being executed by gunfire counts as one such accident, which is why Demon Teams exist.

For these people, a second life does not inspire gratitude, but often drives them to madness.

That’s how terrifying teams who delight in slaughter are born. Of course, these teams are filled with selfish individuals and rarely last long.”

Old Gun blew out a smoke ring and waved his hand. “Enough digression—let’s talk about skills.

Once you’ve survived three worlds, the Mysterious Train grants you a basic skill. These skills are wildly varied—they could be a creature, a magical ability, or an object. Nothing is out of the question.

But there’s one thing in common: these abilities are rarely offensive in nature. More often than not, they’re supportive.”

“Like your Gaia Foundation?” Gao Ning asked.

“Exactly!” Old Gun raised his eyebrows. “Supportive skills increase your survival rate. Accordingly, the Mysterious Train will arrange a mandatory mission for you in the fourth world.

It’s not too difficult, but you must complete it. If you fail, your skill will be stripped away, and you’ll be thrown into a new carriage as a newcomer, forced to start over!”

Gao Ning’s pupils contracted slightly.

Old Gun continued, “The fifth world is considered the final trial of the novice period. If you complete the survival mission, you’ll gain considerable rewards.

You’ll also break free from forced team assignments and venture solo!

Of course, this is information I’ve gathered from others. Whether it’s true or not remains unconfirmed.

You’re just a newcomer on your first world—take it in, but don’t worry too much about it.”