people back then

My heart skipped a beat. My initial reaction was: Did someone open the door from the inside? However, I quickly dismissed this notion. The exterior of the train carriages was rusted, and this wasn't a tomb. As long as there wasn't a supernatural entity inside, there couldn't be anything living. The most plausible explanation was that due to the good sealing of the carriage, a pressure loop had formed inside. When I pulled on the door, it disrupted the airtightness, creating a pressure difference that caused the door to bulge open.

While reassuring myself, I cautiously approached. The gap in the door was pitch-black. After observing for a while and seeing no one behind, I bravely climbed up, gently pulled open the door, and detected a slightly pungent smell.

I fanned the air, lifted the lantern, and ascended the steps to explore the train. The train comprised only three carriages, and I had entered from the second one. After a moment of consideration, I decided to go to the last carriage. However, I found the doors between the second and third carriages locked. After some effort, I realized the locks were functional from the inside.

I retraced my steps, traversed the connecting area, and headed towards the front carriage. The door here was closed but not locked and easily opened.

As I entered, I flicked the lantern's flame, expanding its illumination. In that moment, I witnessed a horrifying scene. Both the floor and seats were stained with extensive dried blood. Though much time had passed, I could still sense the strong scent of blood.

The carriage was in disarray, with scattered items on the floor and tables – half-eaten buns, thermoses, peeling iron teapots, and deflated aluminum lunch boxes. The quantity of items indicated a large-scale altercation, possibly resulting in a terrifying amount of bloodshed.

Stepping over the debris, I reached the middle of the carriage. Here, several eerie red ropes hung. These ropes were thick, adorned with square-holed copper coins at the knots, emitting a strange odor. Seeing these ropes triggered memories of the painful encounter in the Qinling Mausoleum, caught by the Cao family.

Corpse-binding nets? Shock and puzzlement filled my mind. How could such a thing be here? After returning from the Qinling Mountains, Han Sheng mentioned these nets. They were meticulously crafted by the Cao family, infused with insect-repelling herbs and soaked in black dog blood. The knots were expertly tied, becoming tighter with every struggle.

The Cao family, involved not only in my father and second uncle's affairs but also in this. The discovery of these nets pointed to a chilling possibility – something was bound in the middle of these carriages. Examining closely, the frayed ends of the nets suggested a vigorous struggle, eventually tearing them apart. The copper coins on the corpse-binding net were stained with dark red meat scraps, painting a vivid picture of a desperate struggle that severed the binding. I took a deep breath, linking this revelation to the chaos behind me. The bloodstains in this carriage likely originated from the creature that caused such havoc!

Chills ran down my spine. This finding wasn't a good sign. If my speculation was correct, the mysterious entity transported secretly by the individuals behind Daylight Station was now unveiled.

Yet, a sudden realization struck me – this contradicted the invoices discovered in the "General Affairs Office." Platform 7 couldn't have hosted just this one train; there must have been a substantial quantity of something. What were they really doing? The question tormented me.

Shaking off these thoughts, I surveyed the blood-soaked interior, considering the massive medical bills in the infirmary. The injuries sustained were not isolated incidents; the actions were continuous and dangerous. The train being stationed here indicated that this conflict might have been the final straw that forced everyone to evacuate the station.

A sudden revelation hit me. If this was their last action back then, the creature might still be unaccounted for. I recalled the person in the "General Affairs Office" and realized I might know what that eerie entity was.

My heart pounded like a drum. No more hesitation. I continued forward, telling myself that if the next carriage revealed nothing, I would leave promptly.

Passing through the connecting passage, I reached the entrance of the first carriage. Above the sliding door, I noticed a clear bloodstain, dried in place. Curiously, I compared its size by reaching up and realized that the handprint was significantly larger than mine.

After a brief hesitation, I decided to enter. Summoning courage, I pulled open the carriage door and stepped into a compartment that had once been a restroom. Peering inside, I saw several rows of seats removed, creating a peculiar area.

This carriage was much neater than the previous one. On the right, unremoved tables held moldy lunchboxes and wrinkled fruit peels. On one table, I even spotted a few bone-made mahjong tiles.

Considering the massive conflict in the previous carriage, it seemed unlikely that the people here could remain so leisurely. The best explanation was that those in this carriage had all rushed to support the conflict. The traces left behind were preserved after they left, suggesting that the altercation didn't happen at Platform 7 but somewhere along the journey.

A chill ran down my spine. When the train arrived at the station, it had likely become a true "death train."

As I approached the blank area, I noticed deep imprints on the floor. Crouching down and feeling the marks, I stood back and comprehended the scene. Originally, more than one item was placed here. From the imprints, at least a dozen objects, each about seventy to eighty centimeters wide, were arranged neatly. I speculated these were some kind of containers, similar to safes.

About to move forward, I suddenly glimpsed black hair hanging over the back of a row of chairs in front of me. My heart skipped a beat, realizing there was a person sitting in the aisle-side chair!

In an instant, cold sweat poured down, and my body erupted in goosebumps. Suppressing the urge to scream, I told myself it was impossible. Everyone on the train, dead or alive, should have been taken by the station personnel. This obvious situation couldn't have been overlooked. Wait, a memory flashed – the person who visited the station before me, was it them?

Instinctively, I stepped back, pinching my sweaty palms, attempting to ask, "Who are you?"

No response. My heart drummed in my chest. Could it be that the supernatural entity from the previous carriage was sitting there? Suddenly, a psychological gap appeared. Thinking that as long as it wasn't that entity, anyone sitting there wouldn't be frightening.

Summoning more courage, I asked again, "I am Second Uncle's disciple."

Damn it, this feeling was torturous. I cursed myself for being foolish, thinking that even if it was that person, they should have left long ago. How could they still be here? Seeing no response, I cautiously took a few steps towards the empty space where the chairs were removed, until I could see the person from that angle.

At that moment, I almost exploded in anger. It wasn't a person at all, just a wig

hanging on the corner of the chair. I walked over, angrily removed the wig, irritated by the lack of decency in leaving it there.

Simultaneously, my confusion deepened. What was the meaning of this? Was there a bias against people with thinning hair? This thing had no reason to be here.

Unable to find an answer, I tossed the wig onto a nearby chair and noticed several sheets of paper on the table. The top one bore a pencil-drawn pattern – the same three-eyed symbol I had seen in the Qinling Mausoleum.

Excitement surged within me. Fortune favored the persistent. This could be a valuable discovery. I reached into my pocket for the keys, realizing that whatever my father left here must be connected to the events of the past. It might serve as the "key" to unravel the mysteries haunting my thoughts.

Continuing to sift through the papers, I noticed the subsequent ones were hastily copied. With my years of experience in the Qinhan Tang, I surmised that these were a form of encryption, akin to a kind of "Yin Book." The content was chaotic and required a corresponding key for accurate deciphering.

Thinking quickly, I pulled out my phone. Knowing the items were old and fragile, I refrained from touching them directly. Instead, I opted to take photographs, turning on the flashlight and stepping back. As the flash illuminated the scene, the once empty carriage transformed into a hellish realm. Those individuals in outdated Zhongshan suits sat in their seats, covered in blood stains.