System: My Doomsday Train Chapter 4: Level 1 Iron Ore.

"Big brother, your name is..."

"My name is Chen Mang."

"Okay, Mang."

...

Following their short exchange, the pair fell silent once more, remaining seated cross-legged while gnawing on their rations.

Sure enough, Chen Mang sensed he couldn’t force down another bite.

He stashed two buns along with a pouch of pickled veggies in his pocket for later hunger pangs, causing it to swell noticeably.

Before long—

Their respite didn’t last.

Amid the thugs’ boisterous yells, every slave filed into the mine in a lengthy queue.

The mine’s entry was merely a hole in a modest earthen mound, resembling a beast’s burrow—unremarkable at first glance—yet stepping within revealed its odd characteristics.

The tunnel within snaked steeply downward.

Roughly ten minutes of trudging later.

A junction appeared ahead with three branching routes. Per their prior arrangement, he guided the slaves from car seven down the leftmost one, as those from the other cars took the remaining paths.

Guiding car seven’s slaves onward, they pressed through this route for several dozen minutes until arriving at the work site.

The space abruptly widened.

They had stepped into a vast cavern soaring seven or eight meters tall, far roomier than before, with massive black iron masses jutting from the floor.

Each stood about a meter tall.

Their form vaguely mimicked a cauliflower ravaged by disease.

Bumpy protrusions riddled the surface.

"Is this the mine?"

Chen Mang narrowed his gaze a touch, scrutinizing the cavern’s ground-bound iron chunks, realizing this mining differed vastly from his expectations.

"Yes, yes."

Old Pig hefted his pickaxe and murmured, "Big brother, after Doomsday hit, the world twisted in subtle, even eerie ways—like the rise of ’Trains’. Holding a ’Train Order’ lets you summon your own train from thin air."

"These resource spots, such as mines, abound too."

"Mining here skips refining; slaves just swing pickaxes at the ore nonstop, and a typical grown man yields about one unit of iron ore hourly."

"This is the simplest low-tier mine, a level 1 iron mine."

"Count yourself fortunate—no deadly risks here, not like lava mines where peril surges."

"Such resources form the core for train upgrades."

"Take this pickaxe panel, for example, Mang."

"..."

Chen Mang grasped the pickaxe from Old Pig, testing its balance, as a panel materialized before his eyes.

-

"Tool Name": Pickaxe.

"Tool Level": Level 1.

"Tool Effect": Can mine level 1 mine.

-

As always, only he perceived this panel, yet Old Pig implied anyone holding the tool would see it too—proof of the world’s post-Doomsday supernatural shifts, now clear to Chen Mang.

"What ways exist to get a Train Order?"

Chen Mang inquired in a low voice.

"Plenty of routes, like slaying monsters for a slim drop chance on a ’Train Order’—higher-level beasts boost the odds."

"The zombies we face most are level 1 ’Zombies’. One alone poses little threat to an armed adult, but they swarm in Corpse Tides usually."

"Fail to escape before they encircle, and the train gets pinned down fatally."

"I’ve noted closely: these are level 1 ’Wind-Fire Wheel’ undercarriage. They excel at top speed across flat wastes, but falter on rough ground, sticking to even surfaces. Zombies clog them easily too. Level 1 ’Tracked Wheels’ would handle better, albeit slower."

"Choices involve compromises."

"Besides, the ’Market’ offers trades among Train Captains now and then, letting purchases happen—though slaves like us never get near."

"Just these two paths exist currently; nothing else."

"Got it."

Chen Mang gave a faint nod, lost in thought, as nearby slaves already swung pickaxes fiercely at the cavern’s iron deposits. No orders needed; they dove in diligently, well-versed in the routine.

No laziness demanded his prodding.

Train upgrades demand resources, and resource gathering demands slaves—making them this world’s sole true workforce, their worth self-evident.

"I’ll start mining too, Mang."

"Go on."

...

Around 100 slaves now toiled busily within, brandishing heavy iron pickaxes to hammer relentlessly at the floor’s ore veins.

Clanging echoes fused into a relentless din.

No dust rose.

The ground ore stayed unaltered.

Positioned centrally in the mine, Chen Mang surveyed the area then strode solo to a rear corner, pulling up his ’birthmark’-linked Train Captain Panel for review.

Three newbie Train Captain missions awaited completion.

Further features unlocked only post-tasks.

Doomsday had raged here a while; countless trains surely reached advanced tiers. In this chaotic, brutal survival arena, lacking a train for bare protection spelled doom.

Relying on others’ mercy wasn’t sustainable.

Slavery chafed at him.

This Train Captain Panel offered vital aid to bridge his late entry.

Of the trio, recruiting minions and slaying 10 zombies seemed manageable; securing his own train loomed trickiest.

Old Pig’s words confirmed.

’Train Orders’ proved elusive, demanding clever schemes.

"..."

Deep in contemplation, Chen Mang drew the ’gls pistol’ from his waistband for inspection—its hefty black frame a classic design.

The clip brimmed full.

Packed with 9 rounds altogether.