(4/4)
Lucky Cruise Ship
Chapter 543: Is this the power of money?
On the enormous screen, the numbers were steadily decreasing, like a rope tightening slowly around a neck.
The number of anchors inside the casino wasn’t small, and it was still gradually increasing as time passed—after all, the instance had only just begun, and at this stage it generally wouldn’t set too harsh a survival threshold.
Although the higher‑class cabins with semi‑open balconies were bearing the brunt of the assault, the anchors who could afford such rooms were usually quite capable.
Lower‑level anchors were mostly in cabins with only sealed portholes, so the probability and intensity of attacks there were relatively low.
So overall, the difficulty was still fairly evenly distributed.
The main doors on the first floor of the casino were still wide open.
Damp, icy sea wind blew in from outside, laced with a clammy stench of corpses. Even though no bodies could be seen beyond the doors, the invisible, formless sense of danger never went away.
The atmosphere was so suffocating it was hard to breathe.
Suddenly, Ji Guan yelped, “The president replied!”
“?!” Chen Mo started and immediately turned his head. “What did he say?”
“He asked where we are.” Ji Guan lowered his head, fingers flying across the screen. “I already sent him our location.”
“What the hell is going on?”
At some point, the black tang dao in Chen Cheng’s hand had vanished. His face was dark, clearly furious. “Why did the instance start in the Anchor Hall in the first place?”
He had just finished the Top‑Ten Challenge and thought he could finally relax, but he hadn’t even rested for a full day before being dragged in again…
And this time, by force.
Wen Ya said, “We’re not sure about the specifics, but… the situation we’re in right now is very likely something Nightmare did on purpose.”
Hearing that, Chen Cheng froze for a moment.
No one knew what he was thinking, but his brows slowly knitted together, bit by bit.
On the screen, the countdown had already entered its final minute.
“President! Over here!”
Sharp‑eyed Blond spotted Wen Jianyan striding toward them and waved.
Everyone followed his line of sight.
Sure enough, Wen Jianyan—who had disappeared for hours without a trace—had appeared in the distance and was hurrying in their direction, whole and uninjured.
At that, they all unconsciously let out a small breath of relief.
Chen Mo stepped forward to meet him, asking gravely, “What happened?”
Although he didn’t know where Wen Jianyan had gone, he was sure the other man’s goal had been to delay the start of the instance.
But clearly… something had gone wrong.
The instance had not only failed to be delayed; it had even been accelerated.
And Wen Jianyan hadn’t had any chance to warn anyone.
Wen Jianyan’s eyes darkened slightly.
He took a deep breath and said slowly, “I—”
Behind him, the countdown on the screen had already reached the final three seconds.
Before Wen Jianyan could go on, a loud bang sounded from all directions at once.
As the countdown hit zero, the casino’s main doors—which had been wide open just a moment ago—slammed shut, cutting off the pitch‑black night and the reeking wind outside.
“N‑No… no, no, don’t close—”
Desperate screams came from beyond the doors.
But the tightly sealed casino doors were like solid cast iron; they didn’t budge an inch.
In just a few seconds, all sound outside vanished, leaving only the hollow howl of the wind, enough to send a chill straight through the heart.
Just then, the sound of footsteps came from ahead.
Black leather shoes tapped rhythmically against the ground, each step like a blow to the chest. Everyone’s heart skipped, and they instinctively looked toward the sound.
A short, thin figure with a deathly pale face slowly stepped out from the shadow beneath the screen.
Intimidated by the cold, dark aura radiating from the newcomer, the surrounding anchors backed away without even realizing it, quickly opening up a clear space around them.
“The Lucky Cruise Ship has officially set sail. Congratulations to all of you for becoming the very first passengers on this route.”
The newcomer’s face was expressionless. Their features were indistinctly androgynous, and even their voice hovered somewhere between girl and boy, making it impossible to tell whether they were male or female.
“Good evening. My name is Eaton Ethan. It is my pleasure to serve you.”
…Eaton Ethan?
To most people, this name meant nothing, but to Wen Jianyan it sounded extremely familiar.
He slowly frowned.
He remembered Figaro mentioning that there were three managers on the Lucky: Mesvis, who managed the casino; Kalbel, who managed the auction; and the one in charge of accommodations on the ship… Eaton Ethan.
“Due to certain unexpected changes on the cruise ship, your original cabins are no longer suitable for occupancy,” Eaton Ethan said. “Therefore, for the sake of your personal safety on this journey, we will be opening a new lodging area and reassigning your cabins for tonight.”
Their lips moved, as if the faintest twisted smile had brushed across them.
“The price is one million chips per night.”
What?
…How much per night???
When they heard that absurd figure, an uproar exploded among the anchors. The agitation rippled through the crowd like waves, and everyone’s expression turned thundercloud‑dark.
One million points… what kind of concept was that?
A regular ticket to board the Lucky cost only twenty thousand. Even though none of the anchors present were newbies, a million points was still a terrifying number for the vast majority of them.
“Are you kidding? A million??”
One anchor finally couldn’t hold back. His face was ugly, his teeth clenching hard. “Are you insane? There’s no way we can pull together that many points, and just for one night’s lodging on the ship, that’s simply—”
“If you are unwilling, we will not force you,” Eaton Ethan interrupted.
As the words fell, one of the casino’s side doors slowly swung open. A gust of reeking sea wind roared inside. Beyond the threshold was pure darkness; the lights from within barely illuminated a small patch just outside the door, and past that narrow circle of light was bottomless black.
Wen Jianyan’s gaze dropped, and his heart gave a jolt.
Outside that small halo of light, right at the boundary where brightness met shadow, faint outlines of feet could be seen—soaked, hideously pale from being water‑logged, standing motionless in the dark.
“You are free to leave whenever you wish,” Eaton Ethan’s voice drifted over from behind.
“…”
At that, the anchors’ expressions grew even uglier, but not one of them dared step past the light, out of the casino’s protective glow.
They all knew this was blatant extortion.
But… they had no choice but to accept.
In the silence, the casino doors once more slowly shut.
“However,” Eaton Ethan continued, “out of humanitarian concern for all of you, if you do not have enough chips on hand, the casino will be offering credit loans.”
Credit loans?!
The anchors all froze.
Wen Jianyan’s gaze sharpened.
The instance had only just started, and even the rules weren’t fully revealed yet, but he could already smell something vicious underlying it all.
“Naturally, loans come with interest,” Eaton Ethan said. “The rate is three percent.”
…Only three percent?
Everyone was taken aback.
Given Nightmare’s usual cruelty, they had already braced themselves for the worst, but this figure didn’t seem as bad as they’d feared.
“Per day?” Wen Jianyan suddenly asked.
Eaton Ethan paused, then slowly turned their head to look at him.
Wen Jianyan met the gaze without backing down.
“Per hour,” Eaton Ethan replied.
[Huh?]
[How much?]
[Three percent interest per hour?]
[If it’s three percent per hour, then in twenty‑four hours that’s… seventy‑two percent interest???]
[Holy shit, that’s way too toxic! Even loan sharks don’t play like this!!!]
The interest was so poisonous that even Wen Jianyan—who had mentally prepared himself—couldn’t help drawing in a sharp breath.
“There is no need to worry,” Eaton Ethan added. “During the upcoming voyage, we will provide ample opportunities for you to repay your debts.”
Wen Jianyan’s expression turned icy.
At his side, Chen Mo ground out a few words through clenched teeth. “…Through gambling.”
Other anchors might not know, but those who had gotten a preview of this instance did.
For any anchor who had to borrow just to pay for a cabin, the only way to pay off such usurious interest would be to keep gambling, frenziedly and without end.
The full picture of the instance had yet to be revealed, but just from this small glimpse, its malice and danger were already suffocating.
[As expected of an instance mutated from inside the anchor space itself… Other instances squeeze anchors with survival time, sanity, health and so on, but this one’s “unit of measurement” is points and chips. That’s… new.]
[This instance actually looks kinda interesting. Never seen anything like it before!]
“Now then, does anyone have any other questions?” Eaton Ethan glanced around.
No one responded.
“Very well, let us begin.”
Eaton Ethan clapped their hands.
From the shadows, several uniformed attendants stepped out, each holding a huge spherical glass container filled to the brim with colorful plastic balls.
They set the container down on the green‑felted gambling table closest to Eaton Ethan, then stepped back two paces.
At the sight, Wen Jianyan suddenly had a very bad feeling.
“In the interest of fairness, please come forward in an orderly manner to draw the cabin number you will be staying in tonight.”
Even if they resented it, the suffocating pressure of the countless corpses outside the casino was too much. In the end, the anchors had no choice but to step up and queue in front of the glass container.
The multicolored plastic balls tumbled up and down inside. With each one that fell out, a different cabin number was decided.
“Oh, right,” Wen Jianyan said, as if just remembering something. He turned and crooked a finger at his group. “Come here.”
They didn’t know why, but they still moved closer.
Then Wen Jianyan reached into his pocket, pulled out a handful of blood‑red chips, and flicked one to each of them. “Here, keep this.”
They all stared for a moment and looked down.
Chen Mo: “This is…”
“Tonight’s room fee,” Wen Jianyan said calmly, as if he hadn’t just casually thrown out several million.
Wen Ya frowned. “But—”
“No buts.”
Wen Jianyan lifted his eyelids, revealing a lazy smile.
“This kind of thing, I have plenty of.”
[I swear, that’s the most heartless rich‑guy line I’ve ever heard!]
[Hang on, I just remembered—after the last gambling round, the anchor has 1.35 billion points now, right!]
[Seems like it!]
[Ahhh I’m done, this must be the power of money!]
[Damn, that was cool.]
Chen Cheng looked down at the red chip Wen Jianyan had tossed him, then suddenly raised his hand and threw it back.
“?”
Wen Jianyan raised an eyebrow.
Chen Cheng: “You don’t really think I’m as broke as your subordinates, do you?”
Even after being promoted to the Top Ten, his way of speaking was as abrasive as ever.
Chen Mo and the others frowned; they clearly weren’t used to his attitude.
Chang Feiyu still wore his usual grinning expression, unreadable as always, while Maggie wasn’t affected at all by Chen Cheng’s words. Her eyes simply filled with tears as she looked at Wen Jianyan.
“Boohoohoo, thank you, President, you’re such a super good person!!”
Wen Ya shot a glare at Chen Cheng. “Watch your tone.”
“It’s fine,” Wen Jianyan said, shaking his head.
He slipped that chip back into his pocket.
He’d already expected Chen Cheng to refuse. Not only was the man in the Top Ten, he also had Yongzhou at his back—honestly, if Wen Jianyan hadn’t just cleaned up in the second‑floor casino, given his usual spending habits, he probably wouldn’t have had more total points than Chen Cheng to begin with.
While they were talking, the group had reached the front of the line.
The large glass vessel stood on the green‑felt table. Eaton Ethan stood not far away, their face as pale as a corpse’s and their eyes cold and hollow, steeped in death.
Wen Jianyan took their measure unobtrusively.
By now, he had seen all three of the Lucky’s managers.
If Kalbel was unfathomable, and Mesvis vicious and arrogant, then Eaton Ethan was the one most like the dead.
Even with several meters between them, Wen Jianyan felt as if he could smell the rotten stink of blood around them.
The anchor ahead of Wen Jianyan left, and he stepped forward to the table.
He took a blood‑red chip from his pocket and tossed it in, then pulled the lever on the side of the glass container.
The colored balls spun inside the huge sphere. A few seconds later, one little ball rattled out through the channel at the bottom.
Wen Jianyan caught it.
The moment it landed in his palm, the familiar system voice sounded in his ear.
“Welcome, anchor, to the SS‑grade instance 【Lucky Cruise Ship】. This instance is a non‑open, time‑limited instance!”
SS‑grade.
Wen Jianyan’s fingers tightened involuntarily around the ball, his knuckles whitening.
Even though he’d been expecting a difficult instance, his heart still gave a small involuntary jolt at the rating.
‘Yuying Comprehensive University’ had been SS‑grade as well.
Having been through it himself, he knew all too well how terrifying an instance of that level was.
What’s more… there was one detail he couldn’t ignore: Yuying Comprehensive University had originally been rated A.
In other words, its base difficulty before mutation hadn’t been that high. And on top of that, it had been an open instance. Even when the later stages spiked into SS‑grade after its mutation, the early A‑grade zones still existed, giving anchors breathing room.
But the Lucky Cruise Ship was different.
It wasn’t an open instance, and its map wasn’t nearly as large as Yuying Comprehensive University’s. And now, its initial rating was already SS.
Remembering the SS‑grade zones back at the university, Wen Jianyan felt the hairs on his back stand on end.
In the last instance, over a thousand anchors had entered; in the end, only a few dozen survived, and Wen Jianyan himself had nearly failed to make it out alive.
There had been a fair bit of luck involved.
What about this time?
Would he be able to pull it off again?
Wen Jianyan opened his phone. His identity card had updated.
【Identity Card】
Name: Wen Jianyan
Age: 24
Identity: Underground Auction Invitation Holder
Related Plot: None
Remaining Points: 1.35 billion
【No survival time allocation required for this instance】
【Clear condition: Survive until the end of the voyage to clear】
Wen Jianyan took a deep breath, slipped his phone back into his pocket, and looked down at the ball in his hand.
On its surface was a blood‑red number.
【-8】
That meant… basement level eight?
Wen Jianyan blinked in realization.
It seemed the “new lodging area” Eaton Ethan had mentioned was the B8 to B18 decks.
“We’re all on B8,” Chen Cheng said suddenly beside him.
“And the ball opens in the middle.”
Wen Jianyan looked closely and indeed found a fine seam around the center of the ball. He tried prying it apart, and it split neatly in two.
The inside was hollow. In the very center lay a small metal key.
He picked it up.
A tarnished brass tag hung from the end of the key; a few faint characters could be made out on it.
【D‑42】
D‑42?
What was that?
“Can you see what numbers are on the others’ balls?” Wen Jianyan tapped Blond and asked under his breath.
Blond rose on tiptoe and scanned the crowd.
Soon, he dropped his gaze and answered quietly, “I can’t see everyone’s, but the ones I can see all say B‑8.”
Wen Jianyan nodded, thoughtful.
So this new lodging area was just B8.
Before long, all the anchors had received their new cabins.
“The elevators are now open,” said Eaton Ethan. “Please follow the attendants to your cabins and rest.”
As they spoke, several bright lights snapped on behind them, illuminating an old‑fashioned elevator. Inside, bathed in blood‑red light, stood a pale‑faced attendant behind a rust‑streaked gate, waiting silently.
From behind them, Eaton Ethan’s voice came again.
“Don’t worry, there is room for everyone.”
The anchors traded wary looks, but still stepped forward and filed into the elevator.
Though it looked to be only two or three square meters, the interior seemed to expand as more people entered. Soon, everyone was inside, and the metal gate clanged shut.
This time, the elevator attendant didn’t speak at all. With a gloved hand, they simply pressed the ‘-8’ button.
The hinges creaked as the elevator jolted into motion and began sinking slowly.
The descent felt endless.
On the old screen to the side, blood‑red negative numbers ticked up one by one.
‘-7’
That floor was where the auction was.
Wen Jianyan had been there more than once. It was the deepest part of the ship he’d visited.
But this time, the elevator didn’t stop at -7. It continued down.
No one knew how long it took before they finally reached -8.
With a soft ding, the elevator’s iron gate slowly slid open, revealing a blood‑red corridor stretching into darkness.
Unlike the modern cabins above, everything here felt old and worn. The air was thick with the smell of damp dust. With no portholes leading outside, the corridor was sealed tight, making it hard to breathe.
On both sides of the crimson corridor were shut metal doors, each marked with cabin numbers in red paint.
‘A‑1’, ‘A‑2’, ‘A‑3’…
Under the attendants’ guidance, the group moved forward.
Chen Cheng, Maggie, and Ji Guan had drawn A‑zone numbers and disappeared into their respective cabins.
Chen Mo, Chang Feiyu, and Kong Wei were in B‑zone.
Here, the gaps between cabins were clearly smaller, and the air felt heavier and more stagnant.
Blond was in C‑zone.
There, not only were the spaces between cabins narrower, even the stains on the carpet were more numerous. The bulb overhead crackled and buzzed, like the power supply was unstable.
After Blond and Wen Jianyan reluctantly parted ways, there weren’t many people left in the group.
Watching Blond’s back vanish into the dark, Wen Jianyan felt his bad premonition deepen.
Finally, they reached D‑zone.
Only Wen Jianyan remained.
The attendant stopped. “Good night. Sweet dreams.”
Wen Jianyan: “…”
So D‑zone is just me, huh???
Sweet dreams your ass.
He braced himself and walked to the metal door labeled ‘D‑42’ in flaking red paint, took out the key, and slid it into the lock.
With a harsh screech of metal on metal, the cabin door swung inward.
What he saw was a space that could barely be called a cabin: just a washroom and a narrow hard bunk. It was so small that even turning around was difficult.
Filthy and pitch‑black, the walls were mottled with rust and damp mold.
It was like a pigeonhole where the lowest‑ranked sailors might sleep.
Wen Jianyan: “……………………”
Don’t tell me this is the worst room on the entire B8 deck???
[……]
[So this is what a one‑million‑per‑night room looks like? I’m enlightened.]
[The difference from the suite the anchor stayed in earlier is insane… truly, there’s no injury without comparison.]
[Ahhhhh!! The anchor’s already one of the richest people in the entire instance, so why is the room this awful!!!]
[I think I suddenly understand why this instance is called ‘Lucky Cruise Ship’.]
[Some things really can’t be changed by money.]
[…………Yeah. True enough.]
__
Author’s Note:
Money can solve the vast majority of problems.
But not all of them.
