Lucky Cruise Ship
Chapter 560: Don’t move, let me rest for a bit
The night was deep.
Drip-drip, drip-drip.
As time passed, the frequency of the dripping water became more urgent. The cold, ominous droplets fell at the foot of the bed, soaking most of the bedding.
Wen Jianyan leaned against the headboard, motionless, appearing to be fast asleep.
However, in the darkness that obscured his face, his eyes remained clear, silently watching the crack in the ceiling above.
The crack had expanded several times over at some point, sinking slightly as if unable to bear the load, emitting subtle creaking sounds. A steady stream of cold water seeped down from above, faster and faster…
Until it almost formed a continuous line.
It was about time.
Wen Jianyan sprang up from the bed. He lifted the red cloth on the silver tray, stowed the item inside onto his person, then leaped lightly onto the bed. The entire process was silent, agile, and swift.
Immediately after, he lifted his leg and kicked the headboard hard. With just a few heavy blows, he easily snapped off a wooden post.
Wen Jianyan weighed the rough-edged wooden post in his hand, then looked up, aimed at the widest crack in the ceiling, and began chiseling forcefully.
In the “Integrity First” live room chat:
[?]
[??? What is the anchor trying to do?]
[Obviously, he’s planning to go back to the floor above. This is probably why he chose to keep staying in this room. But the question is, why?]
[But didn’t the floor above already fall? Can’t figure it out… is he trying to commit suicide?]
Bang! Bang! Bang!
One hit, two hits, three hits.
From the crack, damp stones fell along with the accelerating flow of water. Soon, with a crash, the ceiling, already incredibly fragile under the immense pressure, collapsed entirely. If Wen Jianyan hadn’t been quick-eyed and nimble enough to jump aside, he might have been smashed directly.
Wen Jianyan wiped the rainwater from his face, held his breath slightly, and looked up at the irregular large hole that had been smashed open.
The opening was pitch black; there was no movement from above.
Wen Jianyan pulled a thin, soft cloak from his backpack and wrapped it around his shoulders—this was one of the items he had won at the auction that night, rated SS, capable of completely masking the user’s aura and figure. To navigate through a fallen area alive, this thing was essential.
Next, he jumped lightly, grabbed the edge of the hole with both hands, and used his arm strength to pull his body up.
Like a nimble shadow, he passed through the large hole overhead and arrived at Floor B8.
The layout here was identical to the floor below, yet completely different.
The lightbulb overhead had gone out at some point. Boundless gloom shrouded the small room. All the furnishings were soaked in darkness, twisted into bizarre shapes. Water about half an inch deep accumulated on the floor, currently flowing rapidly down the large hole. The air was thick with dampness that seemed solid enough to condense, mixed with the smell of rusty iron.
The door was half-open; outside was a bottomless black corridor.
Listening carefully, one could faintly hear footsteps coming from outside—heavy, stiff, and deathly.
Wen Jianyan slowly exhaled, his fingers relaxing slightly at his sides.
It seemed his luck was good this time; he hadn’t barged directly into a pile of corpses. Otherwise, even with the item, he doubted he could leave alive.
He turned around.
And looked straight into a pair of dead grey eyes.
“!!!”
Wen Jianyan’s pupils dilated abruptly. He stumbled subconsciously, jerking a step back, a layer of cold sweat breaking out on his back.
It took a good few seconds for him to realize that the figure sitting behind him should be a anchor.
He sat stiffly on the bed, motionless. His lower body was covered in thick, asphalt-like blood. His head was tilted, lifeless eyes half-open. He should be dead.
Probably died last night. After all, this was Room Ding, the weakest area, the first to be invaded.
However, strangely, Wen Jianyan couldn’t determine the cause of death.
There seemed to be no external injuries? Nor any obvious signs of being killed…
How did he die?
But before Wen Jianyan could examine further, countless footsteps sounded outside the door. In the darkness, those heavy, slow, purposeless footsteps seemed to have finally found a direction and were gradually approaching this spot.
Wen Jianyan took a step back, his heart beating like a drum.
He knew that although he had the item, the noise he just made couldn’t be ignored. He had to leave immediately; otherwise, he might soon find himself with no way out.
He raised his head and looked upwards.
The ceiling of this room also had a large hole, but it wasn’t chiseled from the inside. It had clearly collapsed from pressure above.
Above was pitch black, like a puncture in a bag, with water seeping down steadily.
Wen Jianyan jumped onto the bed—staying as far away from that corpse as possible.
Before those footsteps in the corridor could get close, he had already leaped lightly and squeezed through the large hole overhead.
Where his eyes landed, there was no light.
It was too dark, so dark it almost made one doubt if their eyes were open.
Cold water fell from the sky, smashing onto his head and face.
Wen Jianyan wiped his face—it was raining.
He fished out his phone from his pocket, not daring to turn on the flashlight directly, but using the faint light of the screen to look around—yes, this was indeed on the deck.
It seemed his initial guess was correct. Floors B1 to B7, and Floors B8 to B18, although accessible by the same elevator, were actually located in two different spaces, under separate jurisdictions.
This was Wen Jianyan’s first time back on the deck since that high-stakes gamble.
Everything was different from his memory. The originally bright and brilliant lights were all extinguished now, and the luxurious and magnificent scenery had vanished completely. Everything was shrouded in bottomless shadows. Countless blurry shapes rose and fell in the distance, lurking malice stirring in the dark.
The deck was full of accumulated water. The air was salty and cold. Endless wind blew from the ocean, carrying the scent of rotting corpses.
The entire deck was terrifyingly quiet. Wen Jianyan spotted floating corpses standing not far away at a glance.
They seemed to have lost their direction, wandering aimlessly on the deck. Their skin was pale and greenish, faces swollen and blurred, pairs of dull grey eyes unfocused.
Wen Jianyan held his breath slightly, pulling his cloak tighter nervously.
Those floating corpses emitting a cold aura turned a blind eye to him.
In the “Integrity First” live room chat:
[…Good lord, this item is actually useful! How much did the anchor buy it for again?]
[If I remember correctly, it should be seven million?]
[Tsk tsk tsk, truly get what you pay for.]
[Strange, where is the anchor going?? He seems very confident?]
Wen Jianyan stood in place, as if suddenly realizing something.
The rain contained an ominous chill, seeming… somewhat similar to the rain in the Xingwang Hotel?
Thinking of this, he suddenly looked down at the cloak on his shoulders. Sure enough, the parts soaked by the rain already showed signs of dissolving.
“…”
Wen Jianyan’s heart sank abruptly. It seemed the duration of this item would be shorter than imagined.
He had to hurry.
He took a deep breath, lowered his eyes, and opened the livestream screen. However, before the viewers in the livestream could rejoice, the screen that just had visuals suddenly went black, leaving only a line of cold text:
“Anchor is resting…”
In the “Integrity First” live room chat:
[…]
[???]
[Huh? Huh? What the hell? Why did he go offline??]
[Ahhhh!! Things were just getting interesting! Dammit!!! I’m gonna riot!!!!!]
[Why does this livestream have this setting!! Can’t stand it!!]
After closing the livestream and cutting off all prying eyes, Wen Jianyan raised his eyes and looked into the pitch-black space before him. His lips moved, seeming hesitant, but he still took a deep breath and whispered:
“…Wu Zhu?”
His voice wasn’t loud, very soft, swallowed the instant it left his mouth, disappearing into the boundless darkness and dead silence before him without causing a single ripple.
No one responded in the darkness.
“…”
Wen Jianyan stood still, staring at the empty darkness before him, frowning, suddenly feeling rarely worried.
This situation hadn’t happened before.
Something couldn’t have happened to that guy, right?
After all, Wu Zhu’s power was already limited within the Nightmare’s control, but he could give hints across instances before. Thinking about it…
Enough.
Wen Jianyan cut off his thoughts in time, making his mind clear again, his heart like iron.
He had other things to do.
The livestream was turned on again. Now, the viewers who hadn’t dispersed yet were all surprised, completely unexpected that the downtime lasted less than two minutes.
[???]
[Huh?]
[What’s the situation? Live again?]
[Who cares, as long as we can keep watching!! Anchor awesome, go go go!]
Wen Jianyan moved almost immediately. Fumbling based on his memory, he soon found the path leading to the ship’s interior.
Crossing the empty, messy deck, past skewed stools and a bar split in half, Wen Jianyan found the entrance to the cabin.
Fortunately, power was still supplied inside the cabin. Weak lights illuminated the narrow corridor. The carpet on the floor had been soaked and curled up. The walls were covered in water droplets condensed from dampness. There were still many cold floating corpses in the corridor here, but like the ones on the deck, they turned a blind eye to Wen Jianyan, as if he didn’t exist.
In the camera view, Wen Jianyan walked forward silently.
This path… for some reason, looked familiar no matter how you looked at it?
In the “Integrity First” live room chat:
[Where is the anchor planning to go?]
[Don’t know. Did he leave something in his previous cabin? But this doesn’t look like the way to the first-class cabins!!]
[!! Holy crap, I see it!! Isn’t this the way to the cockpit!!!]
That’s right, Wen Jianyan was heading to the cockpit.
He had walked the path he was taking now once before the entire cruise ship turned into an instance—at that time, following clues given by Su Cheng, he found the cockpit, but due to some sudden situations, he didn’t have time to stay inside for long.
The reason Wen Jianyan took such a big risk to go to the cockpit again was specific.
He remembered that his last exploration was cut short because he heard heavy footsteps approaching from a distance while inside the cockpit—and if he remembered correctly, that sound should have come from the “Debt Collector.”
Mind you, when he first went to the cockpit, the instance hadn’t even started yet!
But even so, the Debt Collector had already appeared then, guarding against anyone approaching the cockpit… which meant this place must be crucial.
Along the way, all the floating corpses ignored Wen Jianyan, allowing him to smoothly proceed deep into the ship.
After passing several turns, he finally arrived outside that familiar cockpit.
The metal door was half-open, maintaining the appearance from when he left before.
Wen Jianyan took a deep breath, raised his hand, and gently pushed the door inward with his fingertips. With a creak, the rusty iron door slid inward heavily and slowly.
The door opened.
Wen Jianyan walked in.
The cockpit was pitch black, with only a small screen lit up, displaying the navigation map.
But this time, Wen Jianyan didn’t walk directly over like last time. On the contrary, his gaze was attracted by something else.
In the center of the empty cockpit was that old ship’s wheel, completely out of place with its surroundings.
Wooden, with its varnish peeled off, it didn’t look like something from this era. When Wen Jianyan came last time, it stayed motionless in place, like a decoration yet to be removed, but this time…
It was moving.
The old-fashioned ship’s wheel turned slowly, left for a moment, right for a moment, occasionally pausing, occasionally spinning. But behind the wheel, there was no one, only a patch of pitch-black emptiness, making one’s hair stand on end.
Watching this scene, the hairs on Wen Jianyan’s back stood up involuntarily.
—Someone was controlling it.
Who?
Outside the door, footsteps sounded again, distant and heavy.
It seemed that even with the item, his intrusion had been detected. However, the item wasn’t completely useless; the approach speed of the footsteps was noticeably slower this time, not as aggressive as before.
“…”
Wen Jianyan gritted his teeth, forcing himself to look away.
He didn’t have much time; he couldn’t stay here too long.
He turned and walked quickly toward the navigation map not far away.
Amidst the dense static, there was an unmistakable, winding red line. In the middle of the red line, a red dot symbolizing the ship itself was flashing slowly.
But… something seemed strange?
Wen Jianyan frowned, leaned in, and examined it carefully.
On the small screen, the red dot flashed, moving in a slow but unmistakable manner. But contrary to common sense, it seemed… it wasn’t moving toward the end of the red line, but… in reverse?
Realizing this, Wen Jianyan involuntarily froze slightly.
The footsteps outside the cabin were approaching, each sound seeming to strike his eardrums, but they didn’t pull Wen Jianyan away from the nautical chart. His feet remained rooted to the spot, his pale face illuminated by the screen, eyes flickering slightly, pondering something.
Wait.
Suddenly, Wen Jianyan seemed to think of something and abruptly froze.
He jerked his head up, rushed forward, and dashed to the dark porthole on the side.
The porthole was thick and covered in dust. The light was dim both inside and out, making it almost impossible to see what was outside. Wen Jianyan took out his phone, turned the flashlight to maximum brightness, but still couldn’t illuminate the darkness outside.
Gritting his teeth, he opened his backpack and bought a powerful searchlight from the system store as fast as possible—the bright, straight beam from the system item cut through the darkness like a sharp weapon, illuminating the scene outside the porthole.
On the pitch-black, boundless sea surface floating countless pale corpses. They lay quietly in the seawater, layered upon layers, a quantity terrifying enough to make one’s scalp numb.
But if one observed carefully, these floating corpses weren’t drifting from the bow to the stern, but… seemed to be moving forward with the ship?
A creeping chill rose from the soles of his feet. Wen Jianyan’s fingers holding the phone went stiff.
The ship wasn’t sailing towards a destination.
Quite the opposite.
It was sailing back, returning to its point of departure.
So that was why the Captain’s Dinner was held on the first night! That was why there was no exact time for this voyage!!
Heavy footsteps came from outside the door. Wen Jianyan shuddered and immediately snapped out of it.
He put away his phone and turned around, but the next second, with a creak, the cockpit door slowly opened. An extremely tall figure with a coarse sack over its head stood outside the door—it was the “Debt Collector” Wen Jianyan had seen in the underground levels before.
Wen Jianyan couldn’t see its face clearly, but he could feel the endless, chilling gaze locked deadly onto him.
“!!!”
Crap, too late!
The Debt Collector walked in slowly, footsteps heavy. Its massive body seemed to possess endless oppressive force. The next second, with a loud clang and the whoosh of tearing air, a black shadow attacked Wen Jianyan with lightning speed!
Not good!!!
Wen Jianyan had seen the Debt Collector’s collection process before. He subconsciously crouched and dodged in the opposite direction.
“Clang!!”
The massive, thick iron chain smashed just behind him, barely missing. The force was enough to break every bone in an adult’s body, but perhaps due to the protection of some unknown force, the equipment in the cockpit remained unharmed.
“Rattle rattle.”
The Debt Collector remained standing steadily at the door, its thick hand leisurely retracting the iron chain.
Wen Jianyan’s heart beat like a drum, his palms ice-cold, yet blood rushed hot in his ears.
He quickly scanned his surroundings.
Dodging just now was pure luck; next time probably wouldn’t be so easy. Even worse, the space here was too cramped. The Debt Collector was firmly blocking the exit, completely cutting off his only path, making it impossible to go around.
What to do? What to do?
“Clang.” The chain was completely retracted. The Debt Collector raised its arm. The next second, a sound of tearing air a hundred times sharper than before rang out again. The thick, massive chain was like a living snake, opening a bloody maw, biting towards Wen Jianyan with incomparable precision!!!
Can only gamble on this!!!!
Wen Jianyan gritted his teeth, leaped up, and threw himself towards the chain!!
“Clang!”
The tip of the chain smashed heavily onto Wen Jianyan’s left arm. The sound of bones cracking followed immediately. A scream was stifled in his throat, turning into a distorted gasp. Wen Jianyan clenched his teeth, almost tasting the heavy rust flavor of blood in his mouth—he maintained his forward momentum, stumbling slightly, but his right hand successfully reached the target.
The ship’s wheel.
Wen Jianyan used all his strength, gripping that old ship’s wheel tightly, and wrenched it hard!!!
A dull, terrifying sound rose from deep within the floorboards beneath his feet. Accompanied by a heart-stopping creaking noise, the entire massive ship actually tilted to one side just like that!!
Caught off guard, the Debt Collector standing at the door fell onto the tilted floor, the heavy chain in its hand clattering to the ground.
Now!!
Wen Jianyan seized this opportunity, pushed off hard, and rushed out through the gap!
He didn’t dare look back, nor did he have time to. He could only exert all his strength, rushing outward along the still-tilted cabin.
Perhaps it was an illusion, but the rain overhead seemed to have intensified.
Cold raindrops smashed onto his body with a pitter-patter. The chill, capable of freezing flesh and blood, invaded through the soaked areas. By the weak light of his phone screen, Wen Jianyan looked around, his heart sinking slightly.
The number of floating corpses… seemed to have increased?
The sky and the distant ocean were pitch black like death, connected by equally black rain. On the sunless deck, countless floating corpses stood straight up. On those pale, stiff faces, dead grey eyeballs turned slowly, seeming to search for something.
The next second, those gazes landed on Wen Jianyan.
“?!”
How—
Wen Jianyan suddenly realized and looked down at his left hand.
His arm hung down at an unnatural angle. Due to the adrenaline surge just now, the intense pain he should have felt was only now arriving belatedly, torturing his nerves. However, Wen Jianyan’s attention wasn’t on his wound.
The cloak above had been torn open, ripping a gash. The body that was originally well-hidden under the cloak was now partially exposed.
Doomed!
Alarm bells rang in Wen Jianyan’s mind.
Suddenly, without warning, the mark below his hip heated up familiarly.
“…?”
Before Wen Jianyan could react, the darkness in front of him bubbled and boiled the next second, sweeping out in all directions like some awakened living creature. The gathering floating corpses were thrown away.
Covering his head came a dense, almost suffocating embrace.
“…”
“You, came out,” Wu Zhu’s voice came from beside his ear. For some reason, it sounded a bit distant, even slightly blurry and intermittent, but the surprise in the voice was hard to hide. “Received, note?”
Cold fingers touched Wen Jianyan’s face, seemingly confirming his existence. Passionate and direct.
“Missed you. Very worried.”
It was Wu Zhu.
Almost instantly, Wen Jianyan’s shoulders relaxed.
Tension faded, tide-like fatigue surged up, and his left hand hurt so much it felt like his heart and lungs were tearing.
“So slow.”
He rested his head forward, emitting an exhausted grumble from his throat:
“…………Tired me to death.”
“Don’t move, let me lean for a bit.”
Screaming…..Wu zhuuuuuu wuwuwuwuwu