Thank you @Renea for the Kofi. (1/5)
Lucky Cruise
Chapter 561: Alliance
The [Integrity First] livestream was in chaos. Viewers were bewildered by this unexpected situation.
[???]
[Wait? What’s going on? What exactly happened!!!]
[Why did the screen suddenly go black? I see the anchor hasn’t logged off!]
Indeed. Although the screen was pitch black, allowing not a sliver of light to pass through and making it impossible to see what was happening outside, there was no doubt that the anchor was still online, and the livestream connection hadn’t been cut.
Amidst the cacophony of rain and waves, faint voices could seemingly be heard:
“…Mmh, wait, I just remembered, it seems I haven’t…”
The next second, the livestream went quiet.
On the darkened screen, a line of text belatedly appeared:
“Anchor is resting.”
[Integrity First] livestream viewers: […]
Great. Now he really logged off.
After closing the livestream, Wen Jianyan breathed a small sigh of relief.
Beside his ears, the sounds of waves, rain, and the footsteps of floating corpses all vanished. Only quiet darkness remained around him. The effects of adrenaline began to fade, and reason started to return. Because of this, Wu Zhu’s presence suddenly became somewhat impossible to ignore.
Wen Jianyan subtly put some distance between them. As if to cover up his embarrassment, his tone carried a deliberate coldness and rationality:
“So, what happened on your end? Why did—”
Before he could finish speaking, he felt cold fingers touch his fractured arm. His voice trembled at the end, abruptly changing tune.
But the next second, the intense pain quickly receded.
“…?” Wen Jianyan was startled and subconsciously moved his arm.
It didn’t hurt anymore.
The arm broken by the chain earlier had healed, as if it had never been injured.
Wu Zhu: “Okay, no?”
“…………Mmh.” Wen Jianyan responded dryly, stammering, “Thanks.”
Wu Zhu: “Then you, continue asking.”
Wen Jianyan fell silent instead.
He propped up his painless arm, frowning in silence.
…Something felt a bit off.
However, Wen Jianyan’s silence didn’t last long. He soon realized something, subconsciously raised his hand, and probed into the darkness before him—taking a while to find Wu Zhu’s shoulder.
“What’s wrong with you?”
Wen Jianyan asked with a frown.
“In here,” Wu Zhu said, “more restricted.”
“Aftereffects of forcibly invading the instance?” Wen Jianyan asked.
In this regard, he was as sharp as ever.
Wu Zhu not appearing immediately after he entered the deck and his intermittent speech were likely due to this.
Wu Zhu: “Mmh.”
“Instance, not native.” His answer was concise, but enough for Wen Jianyan to extract useful information. “Stricter control, harder to invade.”
Makes sense.
This instance was a new one born from the Anchor Hall. The Nightmare’s control over it naturally went without saying. Wu Zhu must have paid a considerable price to send him the origami before.
Wen Jianyan pursed his lips. The taste of rainwater seemed to linger in his mouth, making him uncomfortable.
“However, now,” Wu Zhu said, “can enter.”
Although the instance’s external defense was airtight, to create oppression and increase the mortality rate, it hadn’t completely sealed off the passage to the outside world. It certainly hadn’t expected a anchor to be fearless enough to leave the ship’s protection, come to the most dangerous deck, and destroy its external blockade from the inside.
“Yes, I came to bring you in.” Wen Jianyan paused. “I need an ally.”
This was a very realistic need.
The secrets of this instance were buried deeper than he imagined. More importantly, Wu Zhu clearly had a significant connection to this instance… and this might be the breakthrough point regarding the essence of the Nightmare.
So, even though Wen Jianyan still considered himself unwilling to get too involved with Wu Zhu, given the stakes, the two of them were indeed tied to the same boat this time—and they were literally on a boat.
What an ironic pun.
Wu Zhu: “Okay.”
His tone seemed somewhat happy.
Wu Zhu agreed. Not surprising at all.
Wen Jianyan couldn’t help but ask, “Aren’t you going to ask…”
He stopped himself abruptly halfway through.
“Never mind.”
Wu Zhu: “?”
“Will your interference with the livestream still exist after going in?” Wen Jianyan asked.
Back in the Anchor Hall, Wu Zhu had shown his face in the livestream. Although the time was limited, he could partially evade the Nightmare’s surveillance. So, Wen Jianyan wanted to know if Wu Zhu could still do it now.
Wu Zhu paused for a bit longer this time.
“Should be.”
That meant it was uncertain.
Wen Jianyan: “Then let’s go in first and play it by ear.”
Wu Zhu: “Okay.”
As soon as his voice fell, the airtight darkness around Wen Jianyan suddenly dissipated.
The deck, the heavy rain, the floating corpses—everything reappeared.
“?!” The sudden change startled Wen Jianyan.
But soon, he discovered that the raindrops overhead didn’t fall directly on him but were blocked by an invisible film. The cold gazes of the floating corpses were unfocused, as if passing straight through him.
His left hand was caught by a cold hand, skillfully interlocking fingers.
In the darkness, a pair of golden eyes were faintly visible.
“Go?”
“…” Wen Jianyan looked away. “Oh.”
The two walked back hand in hand.
It wasn’t until they reached the entrance on the deck and Wu Zhu let go, yet the rain still didn’t fall on him, that Wen Jianyan realized the absurdity of it.
So not getting rained on had nothing to do with holding hands?!
He gritted his teeth and glanced at Wu Zhu: “You—!”
Wu Zhu: “?”
“………………Forget it.” Wen Jianyan gritted his teeth, ultimately deciding to respect this fragile, newly established alliance and swallow his anger, not arguing with the other party.
“Follow me.”
With that, he hunched over and jumped agilely into the large hole in the deck, as silently as when he jumped out.
Despite his previous experience, Wen Jianyan was still slightly startled by the corpse on the bed—damn, second time, how did he still get scared?
He couldn’t help but take another look at the corpse.
It would have been fine if he hadn’t looked, but upon looking, Wen Jianyan froze.
The corpse, which looked relatively normal before, now had most of its body turned a bottomless black.
Wen Jianyan realized… what he saw earlier, the asphalt-like substance on the lower body of the corpse wasn’t blood, but this black, viscous, flowing substance—and as time passed, this substance had spread from the lower body, corrupting most of it.
And Wen Jianyan was very familiar with this color.
Previously at the Captain’s Dinner, this substance flowed within the faces of the anchors who had turned into corpses.
Not only that.
The “ghosts” twisted out of the Gachapon seemed to be covered in this same blackness from head to toe.
Seeing this, Wen Jianyan couldn’t help but shudder.
Wait, what does this mean?
Could it be that those “ghosts” in the Gachapon were once human too? But logically, that doesn’t make sense—if it were another instance, there would be no problem. After all, if an instance isn’t cleared with a platinum rating, it reopens again and again, and anchors left behind and mutated becoming new ghosts makes sense.
But the problem is, [Lucky Cruise] is a brand new, newly formed instance.
His finger was caught and shaken.
Wen Jianyan started and turned to look.
His new ally was casting a puzzled look at him, as if asking why he stopped.
“Nothing.” Wen Jianyan withdrew his gaze and composed himself. “Let’s go.”
Just like before, he jumped down the large hole in the floor—this time, appearing before his eyes was his own familiar cabin, narrow and crude, the air salty and damp, water dripping from overhead, a post at the head of the bed kicked broken, the whole room looking messy.
But no matter what…
He made it back successfully.
Wen Jianyan leaned against the wall, exhaling a long breath. His nerves, tense for so long outside, finally relaxed slightly.
He turned his head to look at Wu Zhu, whom he had brought in.
The black-haired, golden-eyed man stood in the middle of the room, looking out of place with his surroundings. Not just in temperament, but also because of the instance’s restrictions. Under the dim light, his entire being looked very blurred, not quite solid.
Wen Jianyan: “You…”
He stopped just after opening his mouth, as if hesitating whether to continue.
Wu Zhu looked at him, waiting.
As if making up his mind, Wen Jianyan licked his dry lips and asked dryly:
“Do you want blood?”
Wu Zhu seemed stunned as well. He stared at Wen Jianyan, seemingly not expecting the other party to actively make such a request.
“I mean,”
Wen Jianyan explained—not knowing to whom—”We have the same goal now. As temporary allies, the more stable your state is, the more beneficial it is for us. Do you understand what I mean?”
Although he didn’t know why his blood held such a strong attraction for Wu Zhu, from past experience, his blood was indeed very beneficial for the other party’s recovery. Not only was the other party’s initial awakening related to it, but more importantly, after the Xingwang Hotel instance, he was also fed the other party’s blood… Wen Jianyan didn’t know the principle, but he was certain that this had changed him in some way.
Wu Zhu didn’t speak, just stared at Wen Jianyan with those pure yet eerie pale golden eyes. It was hard to say what he was thinking, but his gaze carried some very distinct power and warmth.
Wen Jianyan felt prickles on his back under that gaze, uncomfortable all over:
“If you don’t want it, forget—”
“I didn’t say no.”
Wu Zhu said.
He took a step forward. The step wasn’t big, but the room was too small. Although it was just a small step, it inexplicably compressed the distance to a suffocating degree.
Even though he was the one who made the suggestion, Wen Jianyan subconsciously retreated half a step.
But before his body could follow, his heels hit the wall.
“…”
This was the hundredth time Wen Jianyan cursed this terrible garbage room in his heart.
Spending ten million points for this tiny space, this instance was truly shameless.
In the moment Wen Jianyan was distracted, hazy light passed through Wu Zhu’s insubstantial body, firmly shrouding Wen Jianyan, just like his gaze.
In this regard, he never hid anything, possessing a frankness contrary to human shame.
“—I want it.”
