Chapter 299

Chapter 299: Four Seasons Train

Under the pressure of so many eyes, Nan Ling’s jaw trembled.

In the end, he spat, “One more line. That’s all.”

Wang Jie nodded, oddly satisfied. One line was enough—more than he had a moment ago.

Nan Ling spoke.

Wang Jie cultivated again.

This time, Red Moon’s outline rose before them and did not fade. It swelled into a full crimson moon, searing and immense, like molten copper stamped into the darkness. It cast no true light, yet the black around it seemed to be devoured by red.

The sight made people feel as if they might be swallowed whole.

Within the full moon, symbols slowly formed—clearer and clearer.

“Coordinates,” someone breathed. “Starry sky coordinates.”

Voices surged.

Wu Yuan’s shout cut through them like a blade. “Don’t forget the promise!”

Young Ling Er waved impatiently. “Enough. The location is clear. Black-White Heaven goes in first.”

Wu Yuan didn’t waste a breath. He grabbed Wang Jie’s shoulder and led the Black-White Heaven group toward the coordinates.

A disciple asked as they moved, excitement barely contained, “Elder, those coordinates really lead to the Nan family?”

Wu Yuan’s voice was low and firm. “They’re the stopping point of the Four Seasons Train.”

The Four Seasons Train was the Nan family’s location.

Wang Jie already knew that.

The Four Seasons Train was tied to the Nan family’s Bridgeway Art.

That Bridgeway Art was named Four Seasons.

It was a terrifyingly powerful technique. It allowed the user to leave something different at four different points in time—battle techniques, power, words, anything.

And before death, every generation of the Nan family’s Star-Refining Realm experts would use Bridgeway Art to leave the force of Four Seasons within the train. Over generations, the train became something strange and supreme—capable of traveling through time and space.

At some point, the Nan family stopped living on planets and began living inside the Four Seasons Train itself.

The train could appear at any location within Third Nebula.

Not only Third Nebula, in fact. So long as people existed, the train could reach them.

But out of taboo or caution, it rarely left Third Nebula unless war forced its hand—like the Nan family clashing with Zhi family and bringing the train into Fourth Nebula.

When Wang Jie had first learned this, he’d immediately suspected the Nan family’s destruction was tied to the train’s secrets. He wasn’t alone. Everyone suspected the same.

A thing like that could know too much.

Either you were so powerful no one dared touch you—

or you were begging to be destroyed.

Soon, they reached the coordinate point.

Wu Yuan said, “Wang Jie. Use the Red Moon Method again.”

Wang Jie obeyed.

As lockforce condensed within him, it resonated with the distant Red Moon. A faint sound carried through the void.

A whistle.

Then another.

The sound grew nearer, sharper, until it felt as if the universe itself was inhaling.

Space twisted.

For a moment, everyone felt dizzy—like time and distance had been ripped apart.

Then it came.

A colossal train thundered out of the distortion, exhaling red currents like steam. It roared through the starry sky as if the stars were rails and time itself was its engine, cutting past with impossible speed.

Wu Yuan seized Wang Jie and surged forward.

Other Clubs reacted instantly, launching themselves after them.

The train was massive—large enough to house the Nan family’s entire population, from direct line to collateral lines to servants, disciples, and beyond. It could have held hundreds of stars.

Black-White Heaven boarded first.

Others flooded in behind them.

Yan Long’s group moved like desperate wolves. Anyone too slow risked being left behind.

The train howled through space and vanished in the blink of an eye.

The distortion snapped closed.

Only a scattered crowd remained, staring at the emptiness where the train had been.

“Quick—use the Red Moon opening again!”

“It’s useless,” someone said bitterly. “The distant full moon has hidden. Unless we bring it out again, we’re finished.”

“Damn it…”

Another voice, confused: “Why did the train have only one car? Shouldn’t it be four?”

No one had an answer.

Inside the train, every face had gone pale.

Corpses.

They were everywhere—Nan family corpses, piled and scattered across the blackened land like abandoned dolls.

All dead.

The train was vast; what they saw was only one portion of it. This stretch looked like a place of flight—people had been running, then cut down. Farther away, the dead lay in swathes.

The interior space of the train held endless terrain, but it felt dark and desolate, as if the air itself had been drained.

Now and then, a flash of light swept across the sky above, illuminating the ruin for an instant before darkness swallowed it again.

Above them, fragments of land floated in the void.

Some of those fragments were colored—yellow, red, white.

Those were the colors of the Four Seasons Train.

The train was meant to have four cars: the head car in green, followed by red, yellow, and white—spring, summer, autumn, winter.

So where were the other three?

Someone turned to Nan Ling. “Explain.”

Nan Ling had been brought onboard too. He stared at the dead with a hollow, bleak expression.

“When the family was destroyed,” he said quietly, “if the Four Seasons Train suffers catastrophic damage, the other three cars will shatter and merge into the head car.”

His voice tightened. “It’s to preserve resources. The head car is where the family’s inheritance is kept.”

“And the other three?” someone pressed.

Nan Ling lifted his eyes to the drifting fragments. “The second car stored starsea stone, rare starstone, coordinates, and the like.

“The third car stored methods and battle techniques.

“The fourth stored pills… chen artifacts… external treasures.”

Candle-Shadow Madam’s eyes flashed. “So if the killer didn’t take the Nan family’s stored wealth—then everything from the three cars is now in the head car?”

Nan Ling didn’t deny it.

That single possibility made breathing turn harsh and fast.

The Nan family’s accumulated resources… even scraps could be priceless.

People’s gazes climbed to the colored fragments above. If color corresponded to car, then color could guide them to what they wanted—provided the killer hadn’t already cleaned the place out.

Surely someone capable of exterminating the Nan family wouldn’t care about these things, right?

Chen Song spoke at last, his voice heavy. “Swordsmanship.”

His gaze shifted toward Nine Swords Club.

“The one who destroyed the Nan family used swordsmanship.” His jaw tightened. “And it was only one kind of swordsmanship.”

Others bent over corpses too, trying to read the story from what remained.

External treasures were tempting, but the true reason everyone had come was the same: find the cause, find the killer.

Wang Jie examined one corpse closely.

At first glance, the body showed no wound. But the truth was worse: the sword qi had been so fast, so fine, that even the corpse couldn’t display the cut properly.

Yet the body had been severed all the same.

Every corpse nearby was like that.

Wang Jie couldn’t tell whether it was all one person’s work. That kind of insight belonged to Hundred-Star Realm eyes.

And any lingering qi was long gone.

Yuan Qiao Qiao met the suspicious looks aimed her way with calm indifference. “Swordsmanship doesn’t automatically mean the Ancient Sword Bridge-Pillar.”

Her gaze swept the group. “There are sword experts here from multiple factions.”

Then her eyes landed on Wang Jie. “Even this lockforce cultivator’s swordsmanship is not beneath Sword Court’s true-transmission disciples.”

At this point, no one cared much about Wang Jie anymore. They were inside. His role as “the key” had ended the moment the door opened.

Wu Yuan’s voice rose again. “Do you all remember the promise?”

Farther away, members of weaker Clubs stood rigidly, afraid to move. Yan Long’s group was among them, waiting for the stronger factions to scatter before daring to act.

Su Ji Kong nodded. “Black-White Heaven Club chooses first.”

Candle-Shadow Madam smiled lazily. “Choose. There’s plenty.”

Light flashed across the ceiling again, and the scale of what floated above became clearer. There were countless colored landmasses—fragments of the three shattered cars. Any one could hold treasure… or nothing.

Wu Yuan looked at Wang Jie. “You won this promise. You choose.”

Wang Jie tipped his head back, studying the sky.

This wasn’t the open universe. It was the interior of the train. In a place like this, Roaming-Star Realm cultivation meant less than caution and luck.

Everyone was ignorant here. Only Nan Ling might have known more—

but Wang Jie knew Nan Ling was a decoy.

The others didn’t.

Han Ling blurted, “Let Nan Ling choose for us.”

“No,” Yuan Qiao Qiao said immediately. “He isn’t yours.”

“And you think Nine Swords Club owns him?” Yu Zhi snapped back.

Ke Mu Sheng’s voice cut in. “Nan Ling cannot belong to any one party. We entered together. From here on, we each rely on ourselves.”

Chen Song nodded. “As it should be.”

Nan Ling’s laughter sounded empty. “After being captured, I have nothing left. Seeing the family once was enough.”

His eyes turned feverish. “Even if you wanted me to lead you, I couldn’t.”

He lifted his chin. “This place is full of formation mechanisms.”

Then his voice broke into a ragged, hateful cackle. “You’ll all die. All of you—die!”

Before anyone could stop him, he raised his palm and slammed it into his own forehead.

His body crumpled.

Dead.

For a moment, nobody moved.

He’d had the courage to kill himself here. Why not outside?

Was he luring them in on purpose?

For what?

Unease crept into the silence.

Wang Jie stared at the corpse with something like respect. Nan Ling’s suicide wasn’t for himself. It was to buy time for the true Nan family descendant—someone hiding in the shadows with a purpose.

Wang Jie’s eyes flicked subtly, then he pointed. “That way.”

Black-White Heaven moved first.

Once they did, the others scattered in different directions, careful not to let their members drift too far apart.

Yan Long’s group moved as well, keeping distance, waiting for openings.

As they traveled, Wang Jie glanced back at the stragglers. “I saw Xuan Gate’s people. Why aren’t we dealing with them?”

Yu Zhi didn’t even look back. “Someone has to clear the road.”

He paused, then added, “And if they find anything good, they won’t be able to hold it.”

Wang Jie nodded, understanding.

Club expeditions were dangerous. No one wanted their own people bleeding first if they could avoid it. The weaker groups came in knowing exactly what role they would play.

Anything they won would be paid for with their lives.

From below, the colored landmasses overhead didn’t look enormous. But as they approached, their true scale became apparent.

Each fragment held at least tens of millions of square kilometers. On Blue Star, even the smaller ones rivaled Hua Xia in size.

And these were still considered “small,” because the interior space of the train was vast enough to house hundreds of stars.

Wang Jie and the others descended onto a red stretch of land.

Heat surged up from the soil, as if the ground itself had swallowed fire. It was completely different from the dark, cold terrain of the head car.