Seeing this, Uncle Li hurriedly explained, "Lord Mang, didn't you want to purchase Dreamstones in bulk? We've acquired 102 in total, with an average price of 500,000 units of Iron Ore, costing a total of 51 million units of Iron Ore."
"Most Train Conductors exchanged their Stellar Coupons for Iron Ore, with only a few retaining the coupons. However, the corresponding Iron Ore is considered a liability asset and is temporarily frozen in Neon City."
"If we exclude these Dreamstones, today's net profit should be 58.92 million units of Iron Ore, a year-on-year increase of 112.1%."
"Hmm."
Chen Mang's expression softened into a smile as he nodded. "That makes sense. You gave me a scare—I thought something had happened in Neon City to cause such a sudden drop in profits."
"Next time, make sure the data you report is accurate."
"Yes, Lord Mang. Your reprimand is noted."
Uncle Li let out a quiet sigh of relief. This was terrifying—maybe Li Shiji should handle these reports from now on. He wasn't cut out for this.
"Bring out the Iron Ore and the Dreamstones."
"Understood."
102 Dreamstones were neatly arranged on the control panel, gleaming brilliantly.
"This is the beauty of trade," Chen Mang mused, leaning on his cane as he gazed at the over 100 Dreamstones before him, his lips curling into a satisfied smile.
The Stellar Train typically needed a full month of collecting dreams from all its residents to produce a single Dreamstone. To gather over 100 Dreamstones would take 8.5 years.
But—
Here in Neon City, within just 24 hours, he had obtained 102 Dreamstones.
Trade was one of humanity's greatest achievements. Starting from bartering, it had significantly improved everyone's quality of life. That was why, even in the chaotic environment of the apocalypse—where nearly all social activities had ground to a halt—"Convocations" still existed.
Trade.
It was essential. Indispensable.
Without trade, relying solely on self-sufficiency would make progress agonizingly slow.
After upgrading the Train to Level 11, the "Dream Materialization" function became available. Only with this function could Dreamstones be collected. His Stellar Train could produce one Dreamstone per month because it had a sufficiently large population. For an average Train, obtaining a single Dreamstone would take five or six months.
Only veteran high-level Trains could acquire a Dreamstone.
According to statistics,
Among the current batch of guests in Neon City, there weren't 102 veteran high-level Trains. Most likely, many Conductors, upon hearing that Neon City was purchasing Dreamstones, rushed to the Train Radio to buy them up in bulk—acting as middlemen.
Most of these Dreamstones were at 100% capacity.
Only about a dozen were at 99%, which were purchased at a slightly lower price.
In other words—
He had essentially cleared out the entire available market stock in one go. Future purchases wouldn't yield such quantities. But it didn't matter. With Mundo by his side, he could gradually expand his reach to more regions—and more Trains.
There was no need to rush.
"Can the price go any lower?" Chen Mang turned to Uncle Li standing beside him. "After all, this item isn't very useful for most trains."
Dreamstone.
Through the "Dream Creation" function of a Level 12 train, one can consume Dreamstone to create dreams while slightly increasing Mental Strength. Currently, the only use for Mental Strength is to pilot certain armed Mecha. However, Mecha Blueprints are already rare, and those requiring Mental Strength are even scarcer.
At present, the Stellar only has the "Leech" Mecha that requires Mental Strength.
"It's very difficult to lower it further."
Uncle Li shook his head. "Those capable of selling Dreamstone are basically all high-level trains. This price is already the lowest after negotiations with several Train Conductors. If it goes any lower, those high-level Train Conductors wouldn't even consider it."
"Rather than exchanging it for Iron Ore, they'd prefer to use it themselves as a form of entertainment."
"This price is already the lowest achievable after multiple rounds of talks. Even so, several Train Conductors ultimately chose not to sell to us and kept the Dreamstone for their own use."
"That makes sense."
Chen Mang nodded. The value of things changes over time.
For example, when he first crossed over, if he had found Ji Chuchu and a Train Conductor offered 50,000 units of Iron Ore to buy her, he would have sold her without hesitation.
But now, if a Train Conductor offered 50,000 units of Iron Ore for Chu Chu, not only would he refuse, he'd also fire a shot at them.
Isn't that just asking for trouble?
Who do they think they are, being so bold?!
The train currently has 12.04 million units of Iron Ore, which isn't exactly abundant. In Carriage No. 10, another Level 1 Space Gate had been added to the wall—Level 1 was sufficient.
Originally, there were three Space Gates here:
"Film and Television Base," "Entertainment Space," and "Fighter Hangar."
Now, there was a fourth one—
"Cyber Mine."
Inside this Space Gate, ten Level 100 Single Beds were neatly arranged. They were extremely expensive, costing him a total of 5.1 million units of Iron Ore.
"This investment is really costly—a heavy-asset investment, you could say."
Chen Mang stood before the ten Single Beds, looking at the ten residents who stood nervously nearby.
"Lord Mang."
Lao Zhu reported quietly beside him, "These ten residents volunteered. There's just a small issue: normally, residents' Stellar Coupons are calculated based on their daily mining output. But in the Cyber Mine, how should the Stellar Coupons be calculated?"
"Still based on commission. For every Level 9 Iron Ore they bring out, reward them with 1,000 Stellar Coupons."
"1,000?"
Lao Zhu was slightly stunned. This amount might seem insignificant in the Neon City, but on the Stellar, it was a fortune. Just bringing out one piece would basically equal several months of labor.
"Understood. I'll go inform them right away."
Soon—
The ten residents, who had initially been nervous, now looked excited and eager as they took turns stepping onto the beds. However, due to their heightened emotions and the crowd gathered around, they found it hard to fall asleep quickly.
They tossed and turned, unable to sleep.
Embedded in each Single Bed was a piece of Dreamstone.
"Train Conductor."
Xiao Ai, standing nearby, whispered, "Should we step out first? I'll help them fall asleep."
"Mm."
Chen Mang and the others immediately exited the Space Gate. As the oxygen levels rapidly decreased, the ten residents in the Cyber Mine all fell into a deep slumber.
Each of them had the same dream.
They were mining in a Level 9 Iron Ore deposit with a Level 9 pickaxe—nothing else existed in the entire dream.
Inside the train compartment.
Chen Mang looked at the surveillance feed of the Cyber Mine on the screen. Creating dreams consumed Dreamstone capacity, though the amount was negligible—so small it didn't even register as a percentage, lost somewhere beyond the decimal point.
He did a rough calculation.
The cost of manufacturing one Cyber Miner included a "Level 100 Single Bed" and one "Dreamstone," totaling 1.01 million units of Iron Ore.
This didn't account for the residents' daily necessities or the trivial costs of rewarding them with Stellar Coupons.
1.01 million was the base price of one Cyber Miner.
Bringing out one Level 9 ore would yield a return of 100 million units of Iron Ore.
Though it was a low-probability event.
The maintenance and operation of the Cyber Miner had no additional costs—only the initial production expense. In other words, given infinite time, it would eventually turn a profit. The only question was when.
"Train Conductor."
Xiao Ai's voice echoed in the train compartment: "All ten residents in the Cyber Mine have successfully fallen asleep, and the dreams have been implanted without issue. According to the rules, as long as they enter the dream, there's a chance they'll bring back an item from it. There's no stipulation on dream duration."
"Meaning even if they dream for just one hour, there's still a small probability they'll retrieve something."
"And the time required to mine one unit of Iron Ore is exactly one hour."
"Our residents are quite diligent—they usually mine one unit in about 50 minutes."
"Train Conductor, I've made some modifications to the mechanical structures you crafted earlier using the Mechanical Heart, following your instructions. I've named it 'Awl Subulation.'"
"Once the residents fall asleep, every hour, the mechanism activates, driving a steel needle into their buttocks to wake them up."
"Then we lower the oxygen levels again to make them fall back asleep quickly."
"This repeats every hour."
"Each resident works 12 hours a day, meaning they can enter the dream 12 times. This significantly increases the odds. With ten residents asleep, we effectively have 120 chances daily to obtain one Level 9 unit of Iron Ore."
"Perfect!"
Chen Mang grinned and nodded. Just one Level 9 unit of Iron Ore would give him the funds to produce more Cyber Miners, house more residents, and keep the snowball rolling.
Unemployment?
Impossible.
The residents aboard the Stellar still didn't quite grasp their situation—always worrying about unemployment. How could that ever happen?
"The probability should be about one in ten, right?"
"I had about ten dreams before I brought back one Level 9 unit of Iron Ore—and that was without using Dream Creation."
"Train Conductor, you're the Chosen One. You're different."
"Next time, drop the 'One.'"
"Understood, Train Conductor. You are the Chosen."
"Hmm."
Chen Mang paused for a moment before continuing, "Next time Neon City opens, we should acquire some accessories that can help people fall asleep quickly. Reducing oxygen levels still has its drawbacks, after all."
"Actually, it's not a big deal. We have the Medical Pod—any issues can be fixed immediately. The cost of repairs is negligible compared to the profits."
"It's still better to cut costs where we can. Your method of alternating between oxygen deprivation and oxygen replenishment is exhausting the Oxygen Generator."
"Understood. I'll make the purchase when Neon City opens next."
Another seven days passed.
Neon City welcomed its fourth opening, and each time, the number of visitors increased. At this rate, it wouldn't be long before Neon City could operate daily.
Today—
Neon City had a major highlight.
Nearly every guest stepping out of the starting point was stunned by the sight before them. Every screen in the city displayed an advertisement for one product.
"Mining Robot!"
"Not 39,998, not 29,998—just 9,998!"
"A Mining Robot that works 24/7—take it home today!"
"Capable of mining and logging!"
"The only one of its kind in the world!"
"Don't miss this limited-time offer! Only 5,000 units available—once they're gone, they're gone!"
"It's been a long time since I've seen such a lively scene."
A Train Conductor, visiting Neon City for the first time, murmured as he gazed at the spectacle. The massive outdoor screens hanging from skyscrapers all displayed the same product poster and slogan in perfect unison.
For a moment, he felt almost dazed.
As if the apocalypse had never come.
As if he were still in a modern city, and everything had just been a dream.
So surreal and illusory.
"Mining Robot?"
Many people froze in place, staring at the overwhelming posters. This was the first product they'd seen that could replace Slaves for mining—and it was a robot capable of working nonstop for 24 hours. Wouldn't its efficiency far surpass that of Slaves?
"Only 5,000 units for sale?"
"Yeah."
Chen Mang, standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, gave a slight nod. "Not sure how many people will buy them. Let's see how sales go first."
The market is hard to predict. Any conceptual product must ultimately be tested in the market to gauge its true reception.
Only inexperienced entrepreneurs would imagine market demand without any prior research.
The cost of one Mining Robot was 2,500, selling for 9,998—a profit of roughly 7,500 per unit.
If all 5,000 units sold out, the total profit would be 37.5 million.
The profit margin wasn't particularly high.
Far from the Space Pouch, which cost 1 unit of wood to produce but sold for 50,000 units of Iron Ore—a 50,000-fold profit. That was the kind of margin that drove capitalists wild.
But no Train would buy those in bulk. Most would only purchase a few for personal use, not hundreds or thousands.
The Mining Robot, however, was different.
For this product to truly revolutionize Train production efficiency, buying seven or eight units wouldn't make a difference. At least a hundred or more were needed to achieve meaningful scale.
This was a volume-driven product.
Mass-produced products inevitably have lower profit margins. If the profit margins are too high, people won't be able to afford them.
Three hours had passed.
Only a little over a hundred Mining Robots had been sold, all purchased by various Train Conductors, each buying one or two units.
At first, Chen Mang was puzzled—what use would a Train Conductor have for just one or two Mining Robots?
Later, he sent Uncle Li out to investigate and learned the truth.
These Train Conductors bought one or two Mining Robots purely as a motivational tool—to threaten the Slaves in their trains: If you don't work hard, we can replace you in an instant. You're not indispensable to the train. The fact that we even feed you is a mercy!
"..."
After learning the reason, Chen Mang fell into a long, expressionless silence before murmuring softly,
"A long time ago, I heard a fable."
"Sardines are a type of fish that often die during transport. One day, a fisherman accidentally put a catfish into a tank of sardines. Surprisingly, the sardines stayed active to evade their predator, and most survived the journey."
"This phenomenon later became known as the 'catfish effect'—introducing external stimuli to invigorate the vitality and competitiveness of an existing group."
"In management theory, it's also called the 'catfish effect.'"
"It's an effective way to boost employee motivation."
"My intention was to sell production tools, but it seems everyone's buying them to use as catfish."
Not a single train made a bulk purchase.
This was actually within his expectations.
After all—
This was the apocalypse. There was no Slave Association, no one cared about how Slaves were treated, no wages—just food as payment. Slaves had no means of appeal.
This meant that even though the Mining Robots were already dirt-cheap—absurdly so—they still couldn't compete with the price of Slaves.
There was nothing he could do.
He couldn't interfere with affairs in other regions. It wasn't like he could just declare, All trains must improve their treatment of Slaves! No one would listen.
"But this is fine too."
Chen Mang nodded. "Once the trains develop further and figure out how to trade Slaves remotely or operate across regions, we can buy up all their Slaves at a premium and put them in the Cyber Mine on the Stellar."
"Then we can sell them Mining Robots."
Just then—
Xiao Ai suddenly spoke up, staring at the shifting data on the screen: "Train Conductor, one Train Conductor just spent nearly ten million units of Iron Ore to buy a thousand Mining Robots in one go!"
"Oh?"
Chen Mang's eyes lit up. "Go find out why this Train Conductor bought them. Identify his pain point—see if we can dig deeper into it."
Soon,
Uncle Li returned.
"Lord Mang, that Train Conductor is a high-level one. His train was severely damaged in a disaster, and most of his Slaves died. Slaves are scarce in high-level regions, so he was desperate—then he saw we were selling Mining Robots and bought a thousand."
"Exactly."
Chen Mang grinned in satisfaction. This was his target audience!
It had been nearly two years since the apocalypse.
Most Survivors had already been divided up among the trains.
Perhaps there are still survivors hiding in the city ruins within the white zones, but in those advanced areas, where could survivors possibly hide? Slaves are hard to come by—once they're gone, they're gone for good. Each loss is irreplaceable.
This segment of the clientele is precisely the primary user base for the "Mining Robots."
"Not bad."
With this, it means yet another source of iron ore has been secured.
Chen Mang leaned on his cane, nodding in satisfaction as he gazed at the bustling streets. "I'll leave this place for you all to guard. I'm heading back now. Contact me immediately if anything unexpected happens."
"Yes!"
Seven days had passed since the "Cyber Mine" was officially put into operation.
During these seven days, the mining areas in this space had been nearly exhausted through the combined efforts of 6,000 residents and 2,000 robots working around the clock. The remaining mines were expected to be fully extracted in another seven days.
Over these seven days, Chen Mang had gone from constantly monitoring the "Cyber Mine" to checking in just once a day.
To his slight disappointment, not a single person had brought out a Level 9 iron ore during this period—the odds were even lower than he had anticipated.
"However..."
Chen Mang sat in his chair, his expression odd as he looked out the window at the feverish mining activity outside. Perhaps the "catfish effect" really worked wonders?
It was already 1 a.m.
At this hour, most residents would usually be asleep, with only a few hundred working overtime.
But tonight...
Over 3,000 residents were burning the midnight oil.
The introduction of 2,000 "catfish" had exploded like depth charges in the residential area.
"Work hard, or be replaced!"
This had become the rallying cry for all residents, who now mined with such fervor that they barely rested, as if competing with the robots to see who would break down first. The Cola Production Line was practically smoking.
Blisters?
Wrap them in cloth—no pain!
Sore arms?
Chop them off and reattach new ones—brand-new arms, no pain!
Backache?
Chop it off and replace the spine—a brand-new backbone, no pain!
Foot pain?
Chop them off and stitch on new feet—brand-new soles, no pain!
In this world, there's no problem that can't be solved with a reboot!
And if a reboot doesn't fix it, you just haven't rebooted enough times.
"..."
Chen Mang's lips twitched slightly before he turned to Xiao Ai standing beside him and said earnestly, "I swear, this wasn't my intention at all. These residents seem to have taken things to an extreme."
"Honestly, there's no need for this."
"This is an unforeseen situation. Though I hate to admit it, it just... happened out of nowhere."
"And another thing—"
"Since when were the 'Simple First Aid Kits' in the carriages provided for free?"
"They're not free. They're sold in the Resident Store at a low price—just 1 Stellar Coupon per kit. It's a Train welfare benefit to help injured residents recover quickly."
"They paid for them themselves?"
"Mm-hmm."
"And they bought Cola out of their own pockets?"
"Mm-hmm."
"And they're voluntarily working overtime?"
"Mm-hmm."
"I consider myself a good person. The living conditions for residents on my Train are the best among all Trains. But the way you put it makes me sound like some kind of evil capitalist."
"It's all spontaneous initiative from the people below. Has nothing to do with you, Train Conductor."
"True enough."
Just then—
Xiao Ai, standing to the side, suddenly spoke up: "Lord Mang, the Dreamstone on a resident's bed in the Cyber Mine is flickering after they woke up."
"Damn it!"
Chen Mang sprang up from his chair like a carp leaping out of water, grabbing his coat from the nearby rack and throwing it on. "Let's go check it out. If it's that goddamn level 9 pickaxe, smash that mining rig to pieces!"
"Really smash it?"
"Fake smash, don't be ridiculous."
Soon, three minutes later.
Chen Mang arrived at Carriage No. 10, silently resolving to use the Mechanical Heart later to create something like those flat airport escalators. Running from the front to the back of the train every time was way too damn exhausting!
"Huff."
He stood at the entrance of the Space Gate to the Cyber Mine, nervously wiping his palms on his clothes.
He was genuinely afraid a Level 9 pickaxe would pop out.
If that happened, he'd really feel like killing someone.
"Xiao Ai, you're sure you didn't make any damn cola or Oxygen Generator in the dream, right?"
(End of Chapter)