The Terror Train

Chapter 4: Next Stop

The train had arrived at its destination—a station. Excitement filled the air as passengers disembarked， eager to explore their newfound surroundings. Some exclaimed，“We’re saved! It’s a station!” while others reveled in the joy of their unexpected rescue.

　　Ethan tugged at Ajex’s sleeve and whispered，“Ajex， should we get off?” Ajex hesitated， deep in thought. Meanwhile， Henry grumbled，“This place looks odd. What if those horned creatures are lurking around again?” Ethan jumped at the mention of the creatures.

　　Isabella shot Henry a stern look.“Don’t scare everyone. If those monsters do show up， they might just eat you first.” Henry protested，“Isabella， why curse me like that?”

　　Chris furrowed his brow.“Let’s explore. People are gathered around that notice board. Maybe it holds answers.” Ajex noticed the crowd near a stone pillar， huddled around a wooden sign. They whispered among themselves， intrigued by the cryptic message.

　　As Ajex and the others stepped off the train， they noticed some passengers crowding near the locomotive， peering into the driver’s cabin. The chaotic scene suggested they’d found nothing useful. Ajex squeezed through to the front， eyes fixed on the sign hanging from the stone pillar.

　　The crimson letters on the sign read:

　　Previous Station: Goblin Lair

　　Current Station: Mist Marsh

　　Next Station: Unknown

　　The Ghost Train passes through this station every seven days. Boarding to the previous station requires no ticket， but for the next station， you’ll need a“Goblin Horn.”

　　The words seemed to bleed like fresh blood， exuding an eerie aura. The crowd exchanged puzzled glances. Suddenly， cries erupted from behind—the black train still held passengers. An invisible force flung them off， their screams echoing.

　　Soon， everyone inside the train was ejected， and the doors slammed shut with a resounding“bang.” The locomotive emitted a mournful whistle， spewing steam. The previously extinguished lights flickered back to life. The ghostly train lurched forward， racing along the tracks， disappearing from view in the blink of an eye.

　　Hundreds of bewildered passengers remained stranded in this unfamiliar place， their eyes meeting in shared confusion. Ethan’s fear-filled voice broke the silence:“What’s happening? That ghost train didn’t take us home!”

　　Henry， rubbing his chubby face， stared at the notice board.“What does it all mean? Goblin Lair， Mist Marsh， Ghost Train…” Ajex， watching the train vanish， concluded，“The vanished train must be the Ghost Train mentioned here.”

　　Chris adjusted his glasses.“Exactly. Nothing fits better than a ghostly train for our bizarre disappearance. This station，‘Mist Marsh，’ aligns with the description. And the next stop remains unknown. To board the Ghost Train every seven days， we’ll need a‘Goblin Horn.’”

　　Isabella nodded.“Remember those creatures? Skin like corpses， horns， and zombie-like claws? Could they be the goblins?” Chris agreed，“Certainly. So this station is the‘Mist Marsh，’ and the next stop is a mystery. The‘Goblin Horn’ likely refers to those creatures’ twisted horns.”

　　Henry voiced more questions.“But how did our ordinary C2123 train lead to this? Goblin lairs， ghost trains， and now this Mist Marsh. Who can explain it?” As the group pondered， someone nearby cried out，“Come see this!”

　　They rushed to a wall where a row of ancient wooden crates lay. The decaying boxes contained short， elegantly patterned daggers—each about a foot long. Hundreds of identical blades filled the crates. The crowd stared， speechless.

　　The men who opened the wooden crates each took out a short dagger. A middle-aged man with a full beard， looking somewhat fierce， picked up a dagger and swung it through the air. He then ran his fingers along the blade and said，“If I’m not mistaken， these are no ordinary daggers. They are made from Uz steel ingots， and the patterns on them were formed during casting. They are very special and are known as Muhammad patterns. This type of knife is the famous Damascus blade， and just one of these is quite valuable. It’s surprising to find the crates filled with such knives.”

　　The middle-aged man praised the daggers repeatedly， clearly knowledgeable about blades. He gently caressed the dagger in his hand， his face showing admiration.

　　“Damascus blades， I’ve heard of that name too. It’s said to be the first of the world’s three famous blades. But why would there be so many here? Don’t you find it strange?”

　　Next to the middle-aged man stood a young man about 1.9 meters tall. He was tall and thin， standing out like a bamboo pole. He too picked up a dagger and， with a look of surprise， asked，“Why are these here?”

　　Chris spoke gravely，“I think these daggers in the crates were prepared for us.”

　　His words sent a shock through the crowd.

　　“Young man， what do you mean by that?” the middle-aged man asked， looking up at Chris.

　　“This place looks like a wilderness. No one can be sure there aren’t monsters here. The appearance of these daggers is no coincidence. Perhaps… this area is very dangerous， and these knives are for our self-defense.”

　　Chris’s words startled everyone listening， and soon people began pushing forward， eager to take a dagger from the crates.

　　“Everyone， don’t push， I’m telling you not to push—” the middle-aged man suddenly raised his voice and shouted. His fierce appearance and loud voice had an effect， and the people who were pushing forward stopped.

　　“The young man makes a good point. Whether there’s danger or not， it’s always right for everyone to have a knife for self-defense. If we encounter creatures like the ones before， we’ll have the ability to fight back. But don’t push. There are at least a thousand knives in these crates， enough for one per person. Everyone should take one knife. Leave the small children out of it， lest they accidentally hurt themselves.”

　　The middle-aged man， though fierce-looking， had a talent for leadership. He gave orders， and soon people lined up in front of each crate， forming long queues to receive a dagger.

　　Apart from some children， the other eight or nine hundred people， regardless of gender， each had a knife in hand. Ajex also took a dagger and tested the blade. The finely crafted Damascus blade， with its curved shape， lived up to its reputation. It was heavy and incredibly sharp. With enough strength， it could even chop through a wrist-thick tree.

　　With a dagger in hand and hundreds of people gathered together， everyone’s courage grew.

　　“Hey， we can’t just stay here. There’s no signal on our phones， and we can’t contact the outside world. It seems impossible to rely on others to rescue us. We need to figure out a way ourselves，” the tall， thin man about 1.9 meters tall suddenly spoke up.

　　“Yeah， staying here isn’t a solution，” another person said softly.

　　“Daddy， Mommy， I’m hungry，” a three or four-year-old child said， tugging at his parents’ hands and speaking in a childish voice.

　　The child’s parents rummaged through their pockets， pulling out a phone， a wallet， and keys， but no food.

　　They had prepared food for the train ride， but it was all in their carry-on luggage or bags. When the train suddenly had an accident， everyone was busy escaping， and there was no time to take their luggage or bags with them.

　　“Baby， be good， hold on a little longer， you’ll have food soon，” the child’s mother consoled him.

　　“No， I’m so hungry， I want to eat—” the child pouted and began to cry.