My Doomsday Train No Chapter 46: What's the Price for a Slave?

At the crack of dawn, the Stellar was already roaring across the wasteland, speeding toward coordinates (239, 1923).

Before the apocalypse, this area was known as the Iron Ridge Wasteland. However, perhaps because the na was too much of cumberso, most survivors simply called it the Desolate

Wasteland or No Man’s Land.

Over four hours later, the Stellar began to slow. The journey had started with no other trains in sight, but by the latter half, they'd begun to spot a few scattered engines. Now, they were passing other trains frequently. They were just a stone's throw from their destination.

Finally, the train ca to a halt. From his seat at the control console, Chen Mang gazed at the crowd gathering on the wasteland not far away, a strange look in his eyes.

They'd arrived at the et-up.

He hadn't expected it to be so crude. There wasn't a single tent in sight. Train masters simply walked to the gathering on foot with their enforcers to trade. For security, all trains were required to park at least a thousand ters away.

The gathering had no formal organizer; it was a self-governing assembly ford by mutual understanding. Following local customs, Chen Mang parked his train a thousand ters out. He then stepped out of the carriage with Biao Zi, Lao Zhu, and three other enforcers, leaving the rest behind to maintain order and guard against any surprises.

Standing on the wasteland, Chen Mang leaned on his cane and glanced back at his train. With the cane, he could control the Stellar remotely. He'd tested it and found the effective range was about a kiloter. If anything went wrong, he could summon his train with a single thought and escape.

He'd never seen so many trains in one place. There were at least forty or fifty parked here. He'd never had a good sense of how his train stacked up, but now, seeing the others, he realized the Stellar was actually in pretty good shape. At least twenty of the trains didn't even have full-body armor plating.

Was it that difficult? he wondered. With a hundred slaves and a Level 1 iron mine, you could get to his level after half a month of steady developnt. How were there still so many trains that looked shabbier than his?

His main trading objectives today were two people: the masters of the "Bloodthirsty Bull" and the "Electro-king" trains. He'd arranged to et both of them at the far end of the gathering, as they had a large supply of the spider silk he needed. For now, he planned to take Lao Zhu and the others for a look around.

"Lao Zhu," Chen Mang said, his eyes narrowing as he studied the noisy crowd. "You were a vice-captain before. What do you know about these gatherings?"

"Nothing at all," Old Zhu replied, shaking his head decisively. "To get invited to one of these, you usually need a Level 2 train, unless you get the coordinates through other channels. My old train never ca to one, so this is my first ti."

"Let's go," Chen Mang said without pressing further. Leaning on his cane, he walked ahead. "Let's check it out."

Biao Zi and the three other enforcers followed close behind, their faces cold and their hands firmly on their Dragon assault rifles.

As far as the eye could see, every train master was flanked by at least a few enforcers—so had two or three, others more than a dozen. A train's primary combat strength wasn't its crew but the vehicle itself. An enforcer's duties mostly involved exploring ruins, scavenging for supplies, patrolling, maintaining order, handling small-scale skirmishes, and protecting the train master when they were outside the train. It sounded far more complicated than a slave's job. A slave just needed to know how to swing a pickaxe.

The train masters all kept a careful distance from one another, avoiding eye contact to prevent misunderstandings. They walked into the et-up tacitly, either to browse or to find an empty spot, sit down, and write their available trade goods on a wooden board.

With only forty or fifty train masters in total, it was a small gathering, and the selection wasn't vast. The layout was simple: a single line running from north to south, with masters setting up shop on either side, waiting for custors.

Chen Mang led his n into the crowd. The first stall they saw had a wooden board with two lines written on it:

Seeking blueprints for vehicle accessories, green grade or higher. Willing to pay a high price.

Slaves for sale.

"What's the price for a slave?"

Chen Mang looked at the white-haired old man sitting behind the stall and crouched down to ask. It was the first ti he'd seen a train master so old; he had to be over seventy.

The dozing old man opened his eyes and looked Chen Mang up and down.

“Healthy young n have 500 units of iron ore. The old or injured go for 300."

"Won vary, anywhere from 300 to 1,000 units."

Chen Mang's eyes narrowed slightly as he did the math. The monetary system had collapsed after the apocalypse, and a mainstream resource like iron ore had beco the new currency. Everyone needed it, and no one ever had enough.

A healthy adult male could mine about 10 units of ore a day, which ant a 50-day return on investnt. And that was assuming you had a consistent source of ore for all 50 days.

He felt the price was inflated.

The logic here was different from before the apocalypse. Back then, any business that could break even in 50 days was probably illegal. If it wasn't illegal, it was a golden opportunity. But in this new world, 50 days was an eternity filled with uncertainty. Tying up so much iron ore in slaves instead of using it to upgrade your train seed irrational.

He was genuinely curious if anyone would trade iron ore for slaves.

"If you're interested, I can take you to my train to see them. The quality is quite good," the old man said, his eyes lingering for a mont on the Dragon assault rifles in the hands of Biao Zi and the others. He cleared his throat and began his sales pitch in earnest.

“Young man, your train must be quite formidable. If you buy in bulk, we can discuss the price further. Just the other day, soone scooped up a hundred slaves from —pri young n all—and I reckon he’s already left the No Man’s Wasteland. With that many hands, you’d recoup your investnt in a few dozen days; after that, it’s all pure profit. He was a real go-getter, buying them all in one shot.”

Chen Mang fell silent, simply pulling out a cigarette from his pocket, lighting it, and exhaling softly.

He was truly wondering what kind of person would spend 50,000 units of iron ore on 100 slaves. With that much ore, you could do almost anything—you'd be halfway to a fully-equipped Level 2 train. What was the point of buying so many slaves?

In the long run, of course, it was a surefire investnt. If you found a Level 2 iron mine, the payback period would shorten dramatically.

But... in the apocalypse, who had the luxury of thinking long-term? No one knew what tomorrow would bring. You could only plan for the future if you were stable in the present. This buyer was either a fool or a person of incredible power.