On the night platform, the cold wind howled, shaking the suspended gas lamps back and forth. In this scene, the golden glow of the lamps occasionally lengthened and then shortened, causing the stationary steam locomotives on the tracks to alternately emerge from darkness and sink back into shadow—deepening an atmosphere of unspoken, eerie stillness. At that moment, a group of police officers in crisp white-and-black uniforms entered the platform, guided by the railway company's on-duty manager, and proceeded toward the large, slightly aged train. "I don't know why, but after all the passengers had left—including the conductor—every train attendant returned to their carriages and never came out. I sent someone to find them, to urge them to come out and rest, but the person I dispatched soon ran back into the carriage, as if struck with illness, shouting hysterically, 'They're all dead! They're all dead!' " The on-duty manager, wearing a blue jacket, carried a lantern and walked ahead, narrating the situation as he went. From his slightly stammered words and slightly trembling body, the police could easily see the deep fear he was harboring—seemingly, just the slightest tap on his shoulder would send him leaping to his feet, abandoning everything, and rushing toward the platform exit. This emotion also infected the police officers, who all placed their hands on their hips, pressing firmly against their gun holsters. Ticking, ticking, ticking—the sound of boots on the hard ground echoed steadily as the police followed the shift manager, moving cautiously into the front of a carriage. Inside this carriage, two passengers sat in each row, facing away from the windows, motionless and still, leaning back against the seatbacks. With the illumination from the street gas lamps and the officers' lanterns, the leading inspector quickly made out the scene before him. All of them are staff members on the steam train, dressed in blue uniforms differentiated by gender, sitting quietly in various seats, their faces pale, eyes open, though no breathing could be heard—yet their mouths clearly curled upward, revealing eight teeth. The sight of these nearly identical smiles, so uniformly serene, caused every person present to feel their hairs stand on end, instinctively holding their breath. To them, the scene was profoundly eerie and terrifying; they simply wanted to turn around immediately and leave, returning only after daylight to assess the situation. The leading inspector took two deep breaths and instructed the officer standing to his side: "Go check whether they have all passed away—whether they are all deceased..." Pausing, he glanced at the railway company's shift manager: "You go with him and see if anyone is missing or if there are more than expected." "Yes, yes, Officer," the shift manager stammered, trembling. At the same time that he and several officers entered the carriage deeply, the rest of the personnel drew their guns and increased their vigilance. Amid the unbearable quiet, time passed slowly until several officers stopped at the far end of the carriage, turned around, and called out: "All confirmed dead!" The on-duty manager from the railway company then added, trembling, "Two are missing—one conductor and one driver..." As no unexpected incidents had occurred over this period, the leading inspector grew more composed. After a moment's reflection, he addressed all the officers: "Preserve the scene as it is and await the autopsy. At the same time, divide into two teams—one to search other carriages for the conductor and driver, and the other to examine the scene and gather relevant documentation. Once the sun rises, we will conduct a thorough review from both the train staff and the earlier passengers, looking for commonalities and distinctive features." — Although many passengers did not present identification when purchasing tickets, the leading inspector believed that he would surely find some who had accurately recorded their own details, and then ask them whether they had noticed anything unusual or noteworthy during the journey. As soon as he finished speaking, a cold, biting wind suddenly blew through the carriage, rushing in from nowhere. When the commotion settled down, just as the inspector was about to emphasize his words, he noticed something was amiss: the steam train staff who had been seated nearby remained awake, pale as death, yet their mouths had closed at some point and no longer revealed their eight teeth. Standing beside him was Enzo, a native-born "winner" who had become locally integrated. In front of them stood a line of religious mystics, secret figures who had previously attempted to sacrifice all passengers on the steam train—led by a man with a swollen patch on his cheek and the train conductor and driver. They had come from different neighborhoods, winding their way through various routes, before converging here. "Who sent you to make the sacrifices?" asked Caine in a low voice. Since his promotion to Level 4 and becoming a "Spectral Mage," he no longer merely read thoughts from the surface consciousness of the mystics—he could now use his enhanced "spiritual threads" to achieve a form of direct spiritual communication, akin to mediumship. Of course, the higher the level of the mystics themselves, the less effective this mediumship became. After a brief silence, the train conductor, clearly of Ruin origin and with a fuller build, spoke in a listless tone: "It was the divine command." "Which god?" Caine took the porcelain tea cup offered by Enzo and sipped it. The conductor replied呆ly, "God is God. There is no other." Klein set down his cup and asked, "How did He deliver the divine message? What exactly did He say?" The conductor immediately became respectful and reverent, "He issued His command through a sacred object—He requires a great sacrifice of lives to please Him, and in return, He will grant us eternal life in His kingdom." A great sacrifice of lives... Compared to the spiritual orders, the Rosicrucian school has always favored such practices, renowned for their blood-soaked rituals... Yet the promise of eternal life in God's kingdom bears a strong resemblance to certain ideals of the spiritual orders—of course, it might be deliberately crafted to deceive these people. Klein pondered for a moment, "What sacred object?" The conductor did not answer immediately; instead, he glanced at the man on his side, whose face bore small patches of swelling. The man then produced something from the inner pocket of his clothing: it was a plain doll, with gently curved eyes and a mouth. "The Divine sends commands at specific moments. This is the one I bought at the grocery market." The man, with a reddened patch on his face, spoke calmly, his tone steady and unvarying. This... for a moment, Caine considered several possibilities, then asked Enzo, the 'Winner,' to take the doll and examine it carefully, but found no anomalies. Based on his experience, this meant the issue lay not with the doll itself, but rather in one of two scenarios: either someone nearby, using the doll as a cover, had assumed the guise of a deity, or there was a hidden presence who had specially marked this object, thereby delivering the divine message. "If the former is true, then they must already be aware of the train attendants' deaths and have taken preventive measures... if the latter, perhaps they are still unaware..." Caine pondered, then asked Enzo to place the doll on the desk by the window. He immediately rose to his feet, instantly transforming into another train staff member, standing alongside the row of cultists. Enzo, the "winner," also underwent a similar transformation upon returning. Time passed without anyone knowing how long—night deepened steadily. Suddenly, under the soft glow of the crimson moonlight, the doll with its curved eyes and mouth on the desk shifted its limbs and slowly stood up. PS: This chapter is a bit short because I was so agitated that I simply couldn't type. I wrote halfway through, only to realize that it needed to correspond with a sentence from the previous chapter. So I opened the webpage, went back to the previous chapter, and found that the description involving the sacrifice had been deleted. The editing and censorship are simply incomprehensible—without that section, who can understand the plot? Even I can't make sense of it now. What exactly is forbidden about it? Isn't it simply about the villains doing bad things, and the author criticizing their ugliness? I haven't actually described the ritual process in detail either—how could readers possibly imitate it? I simply can't understand the current review standards at Yuedan now. Are they expecting my novels to be so badly rewritten that they make no sense at all? I can't accept that my stories, which once had clear structure and coherent narrative flow, have now become disjointed, fragmented, and incoherent—something that's completely unintelligible. I've previously raised concerns about the changes made to several chapters, and I've acknowledged the difficult circumstances we're all facing, so I've remained silent, trying to be understanding. But now the revisions have become so extreme that the plot no longer makes sense, and the narrative becomes unclear. I simply can't bear it anymore. What is the tone of the mysterious and enigmatic style supposed to be? What kind of atmosphere does it convey? What will come next? Everyone had a reasonable expectation of this. With such changes, I now simply can't continue writing. I've now reinserted the content that was deleted in the previous chapter, though I don't know when it might be removed again in the future. I'm uncertain whether I can continue writing this book, or how long I can keep going. Compared to the first hour, I've already calmed down and am no longer saying overly passionate things. Please take this as you go, and cherish it. I will keep writing until I can no longer write or move on. I will not use others' mistakes to punish my readers. That's all.