Fat Henry couldn’t stay calm anymore. He tugged at William Carter’s sleeve and whispered, “Bro, we can’t handle this. When you run into something you can’t explain, just get out of here fast!”

The fog was thick, making it impossible to see anything clearly.

In midair, vague shapes appeared—what looked like thick iron chains, each as thick as an arm, hanging down. The corpse was suspended, making everyone’s scalp tingle, as if witnessing a scene of hellish torture.

The others heard Fat Henry’s words, and their faces changed instantly. They turned, wanting to jump off the vehicle. This place made them uneasy, sending chills down their spines.

“It’s fine, those are vines, not iron chains.”

William Carter spoke up at just the right moment, startling everyone.

“Mountain vines? How did they grow here?” Fat Henry was skeptical. He looked closely again, and in the fog, there seemed to be leaf-like things on those “chains.”

“They really do look like vines.” Someone nodded, finally letting out a breath.

“Maybe this person fell from the mountain. These film crew people are really dedicated, risking their lives for a shot.” A tall young man shook his head as he spoke.

William Carter took off his jacket, grabbed a sleeve, and with a strong swing, wrapped it around one of the vines. He pulled hard, dragging it over.

The corpse swayed along with it, swinging closer.

“Ah…” Two people were badly frightened.

“Bro, you’re way too bold, just going for it like that?” Fat Henry was startled, but quickly calmed down and hurried over to help.

“Hurry up, everyone lend a hand!” Henry Clark called to the others.

The rest braced themselves and came over, really not wanting to touch the corpse.

William Carter was taken aback, because as he pulled the vine over, he saw an object—ancient and astonishing.

It was a short sword, pitch black all over, without any gleaming luster, as if forged from black gold. The corpse gripped it tightly, not letting go even in death.

They untangled the vines and lowered the corpse to the ground.

“There’s a sword too?” Everyone was shocked.

William Carter pried open the dead man’s hand and took the black-gold short sword, feeling quite surprised. The sword was just over a foot long, but very heavy.

“Let me see—hey!” Fat Henry took it, his hand trembling, almost dropping the black blade. He cried out, “Why is it so heavy?”

The others were a bit disgusted and didn’t want to touch the sword. They were examining the corpse.

“Let’s lay him on the ground.” Henry Clark handed the short sword back to William Carter, then called the others to help move the body.

Soon, some people from the carriage came out, gathering around the corpse on the ground. All of them felt their hearts pounding, a mix of shock and confusion on their faces.

It was a tall man, his clothing completely out of place for this era. His wounds were fatal—a gaping hole in his chest, clean through from front to back, as big as a fist. Blood was still dripping, not yet dried.

“It looks like he was pierced by a huge weapon. Even the breastbone was cleanly broken, leaving a terrifying hole.” Someone whispered.

It was too gruesome; the women on the train didn’t dare look.

“Bro, why aren’t you coming down?” Henry Clark asked, puzzled, calling up to William Carter on the roof.

William Carter waved at him, signaling for him to come up.

Fat Henry climbed up to the roof again, following behind William Carter as they walked forward along the top of the train.

“Look!” William Carter pointed.

In midair, thick vines as wide as a wrist hung down, easily within reach.

“How are there so many mountain vines growing here? If this keeps up, the train won’t be able to get through.” Henry Clark muttered.

“These don’t look like mountain vines. Yesterday, when the train stopped, I saw the mountains on both sides were still far away. There’s no way mountain vines could hang down like this.” William Carter said, looking up at the sky.

Henry Clark’s eyes widened in shock. “If they’re not mountain vines, then are they hanging down from the sky?!”

He jerked his head up, looking skyward like William Carter.

But the fog was too thick, a white haze blocking everything from view.

William Carter gripped the black-gold short sword, pushed aside the low-hanging vines, and continued forward along the train roof.

Suddenly, he stopped, his body stiffening, pupils contracting sharply. He was utterly shocked, his nerves instantly taut.

“Why did you stop?” Fat Henry called from behind, stepping closer.

In an instant, he was almost petrified, his body frozen in place. Finally, he couldn’t help but curse out loud.

“Damn! Was it this thing that crashed onto the roof in the middle of the night and caused all that shaking?!” He could hardly believe his eyes, just as stunned as William Carter, then fell into a daze.

That thing was tangled in vines, hanging down onto the train roof.

Henry Clark looked up, almost in a trance, and said, “That’s… a satellite, tangled in vines, hanging down from the sky?!”

He couldn’t believe it, unable to accept what he was seeing.

Chapter 0010: Upheaval

Thick fog filled the air, with arm-thick vines hanging down everywhere, their shapes vague and obscured by the mist.

An extremely heavy satellite, wrapped in countless vines, had crashed onto the train. The place was utterly silent, as still as death.