Chapter Sixty-Five: Brian's Diary

The carriage was enveloped in silence. Xiao Xueluan’s words sent a chill down everyone’s spine. Seasoned by countless battles, they immediately grasped the meaning he conveyed: this was a sealed chamber, the kind with no way out.

At that moment, Duan Rui, who had been listening quietly with her chin propped in her hand, walked over to the right-hand door and examined its combination lock. “From its structure, this lock should be mechanically designed. Normally, the mechanism would be hidden inside the door or nearby within the wall. But when I moved the dial, I couldn’t sense any mechanical traction. So Xueluan is right—this door was never meant for us to leave through.”

Guo Ji nodded gravely. Though the situation was dire, it wasn’t without hope. “Alright, since the door can’t be opened, we shouldn’t just sit and wait. Luckily, this hunting ground has no time limit. I suspect there must be other mechanisms or hidden passages in the carriage. Let’s split up and search for any clues.”

Everyone nodded in agreement and dispersed to look for new leads.

Fang Nian surveyed his surroundings. Mechanical designs were beyond his expertise, making the search for hidden paths or traps daunting for him. With only his current skills at hand, he could only play the role of a story organizer, seeking the path forward from the narrative itself.

He didn’t possess Jin Jinhui’s advanced three-dimensional wristwatch, so he picked up a blank notebook and a water-based pen, starting to record the known story information. His actions caught the attention of the others. Duan Rui and Jin Jinhui were unimpressed, continuing their search for clues. Yet Guo Ji, Xiao Xueluan, and Xu Dong exchanged looks tinged with helplessness.

Admittedly, Fang Nian lacked any special organizing tools, but the power of his system was undeniable. Having embraced the profession of story organizer, Fang Nian could map out the narrative threads with exceptional clarity in his mind; unless he needed to explain them to others, he truly didn’t require a display device like a wristwatch.

After organizing his thoughts, Fang Nian reopened the previous notebook. He felt there was some crucial clue hidden within its pages. He flipped through it repeatedly, but found nothing. Just as he was about to give up, he noticed a silvery powder had stained his fingers as he browsed the diary.

“What is this…”

Suddenly, realization dawned on Fang Nian, and he called out to the group, “Come take a look at this notebook—there’s something hidden here.”

Startled, everyone gathered around as Fang Nian pointed to the final page, the cardboard backing. “Do you notice anything unusual about this cardboard?”

Jin Jinhui had already examined it twice, expecting to find impressions from previous pages, but found nothing. “I checked; he must have used a hard backing when writing. There’s no imprint transferred due to excessive force.”

Fang Nian nodded and glanced at Duan Rui. She hesitated; she too had checked the diary and found nothing—until, “Wait…” Understanding flashed across her face. She rummaged through the drawer, found a pencil, and began shading the cardboard. To everyone’s astonishment, words slowly appeared.

They exchanged glances, then looked at Fang Nian, who had discovered the problem. Besides surprise, their eyes held a hint of embarrassment. Battle-hardened as they were, they had overlooked a simple mechanism—a cipher pencil.

This kind of pencil could reveal hidden writing simply by shading over it, usually leaving behind silvery powder. Yet none of them had noticed. They eventually chalked it up to their own oversight and didn’t dwell on it. Thanks to Duan Rui’s shading, the text gradually became visible.

The writing was complete—not in English as expected, but a passage in ancient script, almost poetic in its tone.

“Disasters must not be passed to future generations; greed ultimately returns to dust. Marsh water is trapped, water marsh restrained, volcanic journey, lunar calamity, all return to dust, yet remain in the world.”

The group fell silent, minds racing, but unable to decipher the meaning. Civilization had evolved so much that the wisdom of their ancestors had largely been lost, and they truly had little knowledge of such texts.

Guo Ji pondered, then turned to Jin Jinhui. “Jinhui, check Brian’s records. Did he ever visit China during his lifetime?”

Jin Jinhui tapped a few keys on her three-dimensional projector, and soon text appeared. “No, he devoted himself to mechanization in Europe. Other than boarding the Doomsday Train after the Great Catastrophe, he never left Europe.”

“What about his relatives? Any Chinese among them?”

“None. He had three wives, all native Europeans, and his children always lived in Europe.”

Guo Ji lowered his head, deep in thought, visibly puzzled. Since this passage appeared here, it must mean something. But Brian, a European through and through, dedicated his life to his continent and never visited China—why would such words be hidden in his diary?

As he pondered, Duan Rui pointed to a passage in the diary. “Look at this. It records an incident Brian encountered while building the Doomsday Train. The gist is, a man named Yi questioned his invention, but Brian—already in power—had him killed.”

Guo Ji asked thoughtfully, “Is this Yi perhaps Chinese?”

Duan Rui nodded and pointed to another passage. “Yes. Here, the diary clearly notes that Yi showed Brian a diagram, which led to Yi’s death. That diagram likely contains the meaning expressed in this cryptic message.”

Everyone nodded; indeed, many details could be found in the diary. For a moment, they all glanced at Duan Rui with admiration—she had managed to find the key to breaking the cipher under such conditions, worthy of being called a master codebreaker.

“But what does this passage represent? I know plenty of cipher texts, but ancient literature—honestly…”

Just as everyone was at a loss, Fang Nian suddenly spoke. “I think what Yi showed Brian wasn’t a diagram at all—it was the stars.”

Everyone turned their gaze toward him once more.