The bus suddenly jolted violently, and its frame let out a piercing creak, as though every piece of metal were groaning under an unbearable strain. The cabin lurched, and Feng Yan instinctively tightened his grip on the handrail.
The Route 666 Bus had started moving again.
As the bus started up again, it seemed to take on a ponderous life of its own. Every sway felt like some monster rolling over, making their skin crawl.
The dim yellow light flickered inside the ceiling fixture. Through its filthy, dust-coated cover, countless insects seemed to stir, their tiny shadows dancing chaotically in the glow with an almost inaudible buzz. Feng Yan swept his gaze across the cabin, once again examining this bus steeped in an eerie atmosphere.
The seated passengers all looked drained of life. Their skin had an unnatural grayish-yellow cast, their eyes were sunken, and their lips were cracked like fissures in dead wood. Some had hair as dry as a handful of withered grass. What made Feng Yan's chest tighten even more was the strange layer of "dust" covering their collars, trouser legs, and even the floor around them. The dust drifted gently, seemingly flaking off their bodies like dried earth scattered by the wind.
Feng Yan narrowed his eyes, almost wondering whether something was wrong with his vision. His throat tightened slightly, but he still asked, "Have you... tried leaving?"
His voice echoed through the cramped space.
The passenger who had answered Feng Yan earlier kept his head bowed, as though an invisible weight were pressing down on him so heavily that he could barely breathe. His hands rested limply on his knees, his eyelids drooping. He was clearly so utterly exhausted that he no longer had the strength to answer Feng Yan's question.
After a moment, a