Chapter Eighty-Two: Scorpion of Luo

Fang Nian was startled; he sensed that the mystery surrounding the two trains was about to be unveiled.

Luo Li pondered for a moment, a spark of light flickering in his gaze, and spoke quietly. “This story has circulated among us in the poor district since the trains were first built. Decades ago, there was a large-scale rebellion aboard the train. The leader was named Scorpion Luo, a man whose intelligence and talents rivaled those of Brian. During that uprising, Scorpion Luo nearly toppled Brian’s rule.”

At this point, Luo Li’s eyes dimmed, the light fading. “In the end, Brian resorted to despicable means to capture Scorpion Luo. He was imprisoned, along with many of our people, but none ever returned. Some of us, while serving in other carriages, glimpsed an enormous prison compartment. At the time, we dismissed it as an illusion, but now, it seems all too real.”

Duan Rui and Fang Nian were astonished to learn that such a significant figure was locked within the prison. If they could find his compartment and set him free, it would surely aid their cause.

Fang Nian’s gaze lingered on the parchment. He asked Luo Li, “What’s recorded on this parchment?”

Luo Li handed it over and explained, “This parchment was left to me by my father, who was Scorpion Luo’s right-hand man, highly respected among the rebels. Later, during the suppression, my father was killed by Brian’s men. Before dying, he entrusted this parchment to me.”

“All these years, I’ve tried to unlock its secrets, to understand what’s written here, but I’ve found no answers. The strange symbols are utterly incomprehensible.”

Luo Li sounded discouraged. Fang Nian examined the parchment but could make no sense of the symbols; he had never seen such writing.

Just then, Duan Rui, who had been silent, spoke suddenly. “This seems to be the script of the Luo Clan.”

“The Luo Clan?” Fang Nian asked.

Duan Rui nodded and explained, “The Luo Clan is an ancient people on Earth, a branch of the Chinese nation, living in seclusion along the lower Yangtze River, their numbers few. Isolated from the world, they were untouched by Chinese culture and developed their own customs—including this peculiar script.”

Luo Li, hearing this, became excited. “Miss Duan, do you understand the meaning of this script?”

Duan Rui took the parchment from Fang Nian and recalled rapidly. “I saw this writing only once in my grandfather’s treasured books. I can’t be certain it is the Luo Clan’s script, but I can try.”

She began to think, and the entire rebel group fell silent, aware that Duan Rui might be the key to their success.

Time slipped by. Fang Nian checked the clock: barely four hours remained before the cold ring would appear again, yet they were seventeen carriages away from the engine. He grew anxious but did not disturb Duan Rui.

After about thirty minutes, Duan Rui seemed to have figured something out. She wrote a string of letters on the ground, condensed them quickly, and finally left behind a series of numbers.

“C32G52.”

Upon hearing this, Luo Li and Fang Nian searched for these markings on the prison doors and soon found them on a high compartment. Luo Li, brimming with excitement, called for a ladder, and together with Fang Nian and Duan Rui, climbed up.

“Miss Duan, what is the password for the compartment?” Luo Li asked.

Duan Rui produced the device she had used earlier, tinkered with the door, and soon a sharp click sounded—the compartment opened to reveal a bed with a figure lying atop it. Yet it was not the elderly man Fang Nian had imagined, but a youth barely past twenty.

Fang Nian was stunned, disbelief written across his face. “Is this Scorpion Luo? How can he be so young?”

Duan Rui was equally perplexed. “According to the parchment, this must be the right compartment, but his age doesn’t match that of a man who’s lived over seventy years. Could the prison preserve youth?”

Fang Nian shook his head. “Impossible. The burly man before him had also lain inside for a long time, yet his appearance continued to age. For this young man to look so youthful, either we rescued the wrong person, or he possesses some extraordinary ability that keeps him from aging.”

Luo Li seemed unsure of Scorpion Luo’s appearance. The only way to confirm was to wait for the man to wake.

After about five minutes, as with the previous prisoner, Fang Nian and the others saw his chest begin to rise and fall rhythmically, breathing becoming easier. Soon, the young man opened his eyes.

As he awoke, Duan Rui and Luo Li noticed nothing unusual. But Fang Nian shivered slightly; having died once himself and crossed into this world, Fang Nian recognized the look in his eyes—a gaze only those who had died could possess. He was Scorpion Luo.

Scorpion Luo opened his eyes, and after a long moment, gazed hoarsely at Luo Li and asked, “Are you Old Luo?”

Luo Li, resembling his father, was recognized at once by Scorpion Luo. Coupled with the aged timbre of his voice, so mismatched to his youthful appearance, it confirmed his identity.

“Uncle Scorpion Luo, I’m Old Luo’s son. Didn’t you once carry me as a child?”

At these words, Scorpion Luo’s face showed a hint of disappointment. In that instant, it was as if all he had experienced returned to its origin, his life’s journey replaying before his eyes like a film.

But Scorpion Luo was a man of stature; adjusting his mindset was nothing to him. After a brief pause, he climbed down the ladder, looked out at the crowd of thousands, seemed to understand, and turned to ask Luo Li, “You’ve launched a rebellion? Is Brian still alive?”

Luo Li then recounted all that had happened.

Scorpion Luo listened and, for reasons unknown, a hint of intimidation flickered in his gaze as he looked at Fang Nian and Duan Rui. He asked calmly, “What is your purpose?”

Duan Rui was startled and about to deny it, but Fang Nian stopped her, knowing that their inexperience would not fool this man. He told him about the cold ring and the contents of Brian’s notebook.

Scorpion Luo was astonished; he had never expected to face such a situation. The prophecy Brian once called a joke had truly come to pass.