"Or endlessly difficult to understand the hows and whys of it working," he says, smiling as he also looks out into the swirling, discomforting mass of dark and flecked light. Too long and he'd be nauseated again, but he tests himself at least once a day anyway.

"Void of explanations useful to any of us, at least." He snorts, crossing his arms over his chest and shifting his gaze toward Wen Ning's face. "This whole vessel acts like a practitioner of demonic cultivation. If anyone's going to understand some of that... we can't leave. Our souls can't leave, even when we die. We get reconstructed, still here, until something about this vessel lets us go."

Until they're dismissed to go on, or back, or whatever it meant when this train held bodies and souls out of time.