Chapter 102
“Huh?”
What appeared wasn’t a written briefing, but a video.
A tunnel stretching 1,580 meters. An old-style rail train was stalled at one-fifth of the way in from the entrance—and it was on fire. The scene was extremely chaotic.
Jiang Jitang was just about to look closely when the video shut off and textual information popped up.
Because technological development in the Magical Beast World was highly unbalanced, what Jiang Jitang considered outdated—rail trains—was still relatively advanced over there.
Many travelers took rail trains for short trips, and this particular one was chartered by a medical university’s graduation tour group.
They had rented the entire train. Including the two drivers at the front and back, there were a total of 186 people.
They were planning to take this six-car train to a mountain resort hotel for a summer retreat.
The cause of the derailment and fire was simple: the train used relatively advanced electric power, and had recently been fitted with hydraulic devices to control the doors.
However, during installation, no consideration was given to risks of overheating and fire, while flammable materials had also been used in the driver’s cabin.
Now it had ignited.
It was a scorching summer; the ground temperature could reach over sixty degrees. The ambient temperature was already high. During operation, aging circuits malfunctioned, sparks ignited flammable materials, and the blaze spread to the leaking hydraulic system.
Within merely five minutes, the fire followed the hydraulic pipelines under the train, burning from the tail all the way to the front. It destroyed the hydraulic control system—doors could no longer open.
Passengers noticed something was wrong and began pounding frantically on the doors before the driver finally realized the situation and hit the emergency brakes. At that moment, the train had already entered the tunnel.
It stopped 300 meters from the entrance.
In modern times, train cars carry emergency hammers, firefighting tools, and communication links to the driver’s cabin. As soon as fire is detected, both driver and passengers can hit emergency brakes and break the windows.
Also, drivers who have undergone firefighting training immediately broadcast instructions, directing passengers to move downstream, the only escape route.
But these measures didn’t exist from the start—they were born from repeated painful lessons, eventually turning into “regulations.”
Unfortunately, Magical Beast World had not yet developed regulations requiring trains to be equipped with fire hammers, extinguishers, or alarm systems. Nor had the drivers undergone firefighting training.
Additionally, both sides of the train were made of extra-thick dual-layer blast-resistant glass, nearly impossible to break with ordinary tools. They were trapped inside the increasingly hot and smoke-filled cars.
Although the Magical Beast World possessed supernatural powers and Magical Beasts worked in such crises, the passengers were all medical university students. Most brought only auxiliary-type Magical Beasts focused on healing.
Only passengers in two cars managed to break their windows quickly enough; the rest remained trapped.
That was where the intel ended.
The task referred to “opening a survival channel,” requiring the task performer to create a safe passage within five minutes, ensuring at least 60% of the victims survive.
Five minutes to break windows, open an escape route, manage a panicked crowd and direct them to safety?
Keep in mind—all carriages are sealed shut, each burning hot…
…burning hot?
Jiang Jitang looked at the train in the video. “System, is that tempered glass? What’s its performance like? If I spray it with a tank of liquid nitrogen for rapid cooling, could I use thermal expansion-contraction to shatter it?”
[Not tempered, but dual-layer,] the bubble frame replied.
Given the technological level, and as a civilian device, its performance should be inferior to tempered glass. Alternating heat and cold should generate cracks, enabling window destruction.
But after searching, he found only small medical containers or just tanks without proper fittings—not what he needed.
To get fully filled liquid nitrogen tanks within hours, he lacked the connections—unless Sister Xia could help.
Even if the windows were broken and people could exit, another problem remained.
The tunnel was quite narrow—only 5.5 meters wide according to the data—allowing only one train to pass. The train was on fire, flames and smoke rising around it. Humans would instinctively avoid fire and flee forward.
That would be fatal.
He examined the tunnel. It had a 30-degree incline; the train was heading uphill. That meant the upper end was the upwind direction.
According to the chimney effect, in a semi-enclosed tunnel, the upwind end would collect large amounts of high-temperature smoke. Entering the upwind zone would be no different from stepping into an oven.
The train was currently at one-fifth of the distance from the entrance. To escape upward, they’d need to run over one thousand meters. Yet Jiang Jitang suspected they wouldn’t make it 100 meters before collapsing from toxic high-heat smoke. Humans can’t outrun high-temperature airflow.
To survive, they must charge toward the flames, heading downstream—that was the only chance to live.
But that directly contradicts the survival instinct of fleeing away from fire.
In such panic, no matter how he yelled, people would only act on instinct and rush forward.
Unless…
“Set up a line of anti-horse stakes wrapped with two layers of barbed wire—physically block them, force them back.”
Jiang Jitang stroked his chin. “Use obstacles to push them toward the entrance, use liquid nitrogen to break the windows, throw auto fire-extinguishing grenades, provide some breathing masks. Maybe that can create a survival route.”
Most importantly, he had healing abilities, making him the most suitable candidate for this task.
For that reason, he accepted three tasks, including this one.
“Sister Xia.” Jiang Jitang contacted her, asking for help finding portable liquid nitrogen tanks—capacity over 50L, with accompanying equipment. Ideally, empty tanks should be recyclable.
He himself searched online for reliable firefighting equipment, purchasing through a wholesale website.
She replied quickly—found one 50L tank, empty tank recyclable, one full liquid nitrogen refill cost 100. Typically, a ton of liquid nitrogen costs 500–600, so 50L for 100 seemed expensive—but that included equipment rental.
Jiang Jitang ordered eight tanks.
From the 10,000 he had, 9,200 remained.
Auto fire-extinguishing bottles, the size of mineral water bottles—wholesale price 22 each, 200 units.
Disposable firefighting masks with goggles and breathing packs covering the entire head—wholesale price 14.5 each, 200 units.
High-density asbestos fabric—heat-resistant, fireproof—one meter wide roll of 50 meters, wholesale price 450, two rolls.
After ordering all this, he still had 1,000 left—but he still needed to prepare obstacles strong enough to block panicked escapees. And these obstacles couldn’t block high-temperature smoke.
Driving his new ride, he collected the extinguishers, fire masks, and asbestos cloth. Then he visited an old friend—Boss Zhang, who ran a scrap recycling center and loved nine-layer rice cakes.
“Yo, you’ve made it big—car’s worth over a million.” Boss Zhang knew his stuff. This was a new smart electric car—top model at that price.
“Friend’s.” Jiang Jitang stayed calm. It wasn’t his purchase.
Boss Zhang was even more envious. What a great friend—to lend such an expensive car.
“Boss Zhang, where are the scrap wood and barbed wire?” Jiang Jitang handed over the cakes and lotus root soup, walking toward the back.
They were old friends. Boss Zhang opened the box and started eating the cake. “These steel wire barbed coils are secondhand, but still good quality. For you, friend price—1.5 yuan per meter.”
“Brand new is only 0.7 yuan a meter, could be cheaper wholesale.” Friendship aside, the price had to be bargained.
“No way. New ones start at 3.6 yuan per meter, minimum 10 meters per order. These are eliminated from factory sites, still usable.”
“I don’t need hot-dipped galvanized or special material—just the most basic.” Jiang Jitang replied. These were disposable, just needed to block people—not overly demanding.
Eventually, Boss Zhang found the most standard barbed wire coils, 45 cm diameter, 50 meters long, heavily rusted but usable.
“This batch—cheap—0.5 a meter, I’ll take them all.”
“0.6. There’s 50 meters, so 300 total.”
50 meters could cover about 10 meters of length when stretched, and the tunnel width was under 6 meters.
“280, including those scrap wood pieces, total 350.” Jiang Jitang pointed at the wooden boards—discarded from demolished houses, mostly pine, some already rotten.
“Deal.”
“Deliver to my place.”
“…Fine.” As expected, the snacks weren’t free.
—
Materials arrived.
Wearing his blue uniform, Jiang Jitang hammered and stacked the rotten wood into a 5-meter-wide, 2-meter-high barricade, reinforced on one side so it couldn’t be easily knocked over.
Then he tied the rusty barbed wire onto it to make sure no one could climb over.
That was when Sister Xia arrived with the liquid nitrogen tanks. She didn’t ask what they were for—just dropped them off and left, not even taking a drink.
“Sister Xia is truly reliable.”
Then Jiang Jitang studied how everything worked, and what precautions to observe.
Once everything was ready and he was still anxious, he simulated the steps in his courtyard: step one, step two, how to react to sudden developments, what types of emergencies might occur…
He only had five minutes. Thinking on site was absolutely not viable.
Holding a notebook, he scribbled plans, while looking up similar Blue Star disasters, listing all possible scenarios, and creating contingency plans A, B, and C.
Once fully prepared, he ate, restored his energy, and put on a long-unused basic liquid protection suit. It provided heat insulation and toxic protection.
Finally, he took a megaphone.
“Execute.”
Jiang Jitang opened his eyes—and a wave of intense fire surged toward him, accompanied by billowing black smoke. But thanks to the protection suit, he didn’t immediately feel the scorching heat, nor any breathing difficulty.
The video hadn’t shown even a third of how dangerous reality was. Even standing at the last-ignited front of the train, wrapped in protective gear, inside a narrowed sealed space engulfed in flame, he still felt the terror of having stepped into an oven.
If he, someone with an exit plan, felt this way—what about the trapped survivors?
Bang! A scene from the video happened before his eyes. One carriage window shattered, and students crawled and tumbled out, wailing. The flames on the ground seared their skin as they stumbled, inhaling smoke, coughing violently.
They were rushing toward his direction—no more time to be stunned. Jiang Jitang swung his arms and wedged the barricade he’d assembled all morning against the train’s front.
He hit the megaphone to max volume. “Blocked ahead! Move backward! Quick—move backward!”
As he shouted, he tossed down the asbestos cloth—rolled out deliberately. A gentle push, and it rolled downhill. Wherever it landed, the flames receded.
A path to survival revealed itself within the black smoke.
But the survivors had already lost their senses—instinctively fleeing the flames, attempting to run upward.
Soon, however, they spotted the barricade—Jiang Jitang had added a little creativity. Aside from barbed wire, he’d tied LED lights to it. Amid the darkness and smoke, flashing eerie points of light appeared.
“Move backward! Forward is certain death!” Jiang Jitang yelled.
He had already thrown two auto-extinguisher bottles under the cars, and set the nitrogen tank nozzle aimed at the window. Stepping on the pedal, he activated it—the white gas blasted out.
Simultaneously, the extinguishers detonated beneath the train, and the flames vanished instantly.
The survivors who had made it out finally noticed him—they didn’t know who he was but saw him extinguish the fire.
“Go!” someone in the crowd gritted out. “Move toward the back!” On his head, a large-eared rabbit, blackened by smoke, looked at him with concern, healing him.
“Duoduo, let’s go.” He tucked the rabbit into his arms and dashed toward the exit still spewing flames and smoke. The others snapped out of it and followed.
Glass scorched by intense heat, after sudden freezing, had cracked. With fractures, it was easier to break—but smashing it from his side would send shards flying out, potentially causing secondary injuries.
Time was too short. Jiang Jitang could only grab a hammer and break it forcefully.
The dual-layered glass shattered across the ground. Survivors inside didn’t care about glass shards cutting them—they were scrambling to escape. Magical beasts inside ran out with them.
“Move back! Forward is death! Stay on the white asbestos path! Move!”
There was no time to hand out masks. Jiang Jitang could only shout directions for them to run backward, while he himself moved faster, throwing new extinguishers and beginning another round of window breaking.
So far, one and a half minutes had passed. He needed to speed up.
