(4/6)
Lucky Cruise Ship
Chapter 571: Can’t we try using a different sheep?!
“…Are you guys joking?”
Wen Jianyan looked around slowly, his gaze sweeping across the faces of everyone present.
Unfortunately, they were not.
Silence, heavy as a lead block, weighed down on everyone’s chest, making it hard to breathe.
“Have you forgotten? The ticket to the next level cannot be exchanged with points; it can only be obtained by betting on the champion horse. So, if we want to enter the next level, we must participate in this horse race, and we must win,” Wen Ya stared intently at Wen Jianyan, suppressing all emotional fluctuations in her voice. “But unfortunately, we don’t have a guaranteed way to win.”
This was a cold, hard fact.
The racecourse on the Negative 4th Floor was a nightmare for anyone.
Because as long as you were outside the arena, cheating was impossible.
To leave the Negative 4th Floor and go to the 5th, one had to choose the champion horse—no multiple choices, no changing—and then do everything possible to ensure its victory.
However, the racecourse provided pitifully few protective measures for bettors, while offering countless ways to inflict torture. This meant that no matter how much capital you invested or how many obstacles you set for competitors, victory was not guaranteed.
Because anchors betting on other horses would do the same. To get higher returns and more chips, they would recklessly inflict violence on all other horses. Therefore, just a single nail on the track or a second of distraction could mean losing everything.
So, for those outside the arena, the result of the race was completely unpredictable; it was a pure gamble on luck.
Unless…
Someone entered the arena.
“We’ve been delayed too long on the Negative 4th Floor. If we really intend to race against the Oracle and reach the Negative 6th Floor before them, we must seize this opportunity.”
Wen Ya spoke slowly.
She looked at Wen Jianyan and took a deep breath. “If I’m wrong, you can correct me.”
Wen Jianyan didn’t speak.
Wen Ya’s gaze locked tightly onto Wen Jianyan’s face as she asked slowly, “Do you remember our conversation after leaving the racecourse for the first time?”
Back then, after leaving the racecourse, Wen Ya had asked him what he planned to do next.
Wen Jianyan’s face had been pale but calm. He shook his head very calmly, saying he had no ideas—a situation that had never happened before.
Most of the time, even if he didn’t know the answer temporarily, he would have a general direction. But after leaving the racecourse, he seemed to have given up on clearing the level directly: no tasks assigned, no thoughts shared, and he never even mentioned the matter again.
“You are always the smartest one,” Wen Ya said. “Your sensitivity to rules far exceeds anyone we know.”
“You said you had no ideas. Was it really that you had none… or was it because you already knew the way to victory, but just weren’t willing to do it?”
Wen Jianyan remained silent.
Finally, after an unknown amount of time, he spoke.
“When does he go on?”
Before the others could react, Wen Jianyan turned around, seemingly not intending to answer Wen Ya’s question at all, and hurriedly walked towards the front desk. “If I pay the debt now, it should still be in time to pull Ji Guan out.”
But before he could take a few steps, his arm was grabbed: “Wait…”
“Yes, I did know.”
Wen Jianyan stopped and turned back, his expression still calm.
In this world, perhaps no one was more familiar with this kind of scene than Wen Jianyan, nor clearer on how to win in such a situation.
He didn’t even need to finish watching that horse race to think of a way to break the game.
It was simple, because horse racing in the real world also had rigging. To control the winner, one either bribed the jockey or tampered with the horse.
Therefore, if one wanted to win on the Negative 4th Floor, the simplest method was to have someone with a special talent or carrying a special item infiltrate the backstage and become a “horse.”
The others were stunned, clearly not expecting Wen Jianyan to admit it so readily.
“You’ve seen the racecourse. You know what the ‘horses’ inside will suffer,” Wen Jianyan stared at them, speaking softly. “Now, it’s your turn to answer me—is it worth it?”
—Sending one’s own friend into that hell with one’s own hands, paving the road to victory with their blood and bones.
Was it really worth it?
Now, everyone fell silent.
Were they really willing to bear such a blood debt?
“Maybe it’s worth it, maybe not, but regardless,” Chen Mo’s voice suddenly sounded, “…it’s already too late.”
Almost the instant his voice fell, the screen in the Negative 4th Floor lobby lit up.
This was the broadcast for those who hadn’t bought tickets.
On the screen, a female dealer wearing a [No.9] badge appeared. Her voice was loud and clear, her smile bright:
“Hello everyone! I’m Aisley, the dealer in charge of this floor. Welcome to my racecourse!”
The track was empty, and the ground had been cleaned, as if the previous races had left no trace. Yet, a faint smell of blood wafted in the air, suggesting the enormous racecourse had been marinated in blood, the aura of sin permeating every inch of the walls.
Around the arena, every spectator stared intently at the racecourse, their eyes focused with a hint of madness.
Unlike the first few openings, now everyone was familiar with the rules here. Each of them carried wads of cash, ready to enjoy and participate fully.
“The twelve horses participating today are all outstanding in strength, every one a potential champion!”
Twelve horses.
It seemed the number of people falling into casino debt and unable to repay in time was surging. The wealth stratification in the instance was growing wider, and more and more anchors were falling into this abyss of despair from which they could not climb out.
“First up is Horse No. 1! It’s a robust breed we haven’t seen in a while, with a strong constitution and agile reactions. It will surely be a hot favorite for the championship!”
Accompanying the introduction, the camera zoomed in, and a human face appeared on the screen.
Almost immediately, brokers began peddling the true information of the racehorses below the stage.
Anchor code name, ranking, affiliated guild, possible talent types, probability of winning, and so on.
As soon as the information came out, the audience immediately scrambled for it.
Clearly, even though the racecourse hadn’t been open for long, a complete industrial chain and ecosystem had already formed here. People were parasitic on blood, seeking any possibility to maximize wealth.
Face after face flashed across the screen until finally, a familiar face appeared before everyone’s eyes.
Ji Guan.
The moment they saw him, everyone’s breath hitched, as if an invisible hand had violently grabbed their hearts.
Before entering this instance, he had already shaved off his eye-catching hairstyle, leaving only a short stubble on his scalp. Like all the other “horses,” his limbs had been elongated, and he crouched on the ground in a twisted and grotesque posture—such a scene was uncomfortable enough happening to strangers, but when the person suffering such torture was a friend, the discomfort reached its peak.
Ji Guan hung his head low, only glancing up when the camera swept past.
His usually carefree face was extremely pale, enduring the pain like all other “horses.” However, unlike those desperate pitiful creatures, his eyes clearly held a trace of calm ruthlessness.
The dealer’s introduction came through the background audio.
“—Horse No. 7 is in excellent spirits, with long limbs and good stature. He might just achieve great results this time!”
Below the racecourse, in the bettors’ seating area.
“Urgh!” Blondie bent over, dry heaving from high pressure and nausea. But before he could actually vomit anything, a hand forcibly turned his pale, contorted face back: “Hey, listen, pull yourself together.”
Blondie looked over painfully.
It was Maggie who did this.
That usually grinning face had become exceptionally serious. This time, she wasn’t joking around either; her eyes held the calm and rationality only a veteran anchor possessed. “Your friend is on stage waiting for you to save him. Only the two of us working together can do this, and you are an essential part of it, understand?”
“…Yeah, yeah.” Blondie gritted his teeth, nodding with tears in his eyes.
When a crushing burden falls on one’s shoulders, even the most timid person has to toughen up.
If they didn’t, the price paid would be more than just one life.
Betting closed, the race began.
On the screen, the voice of the No. 9 dealer named Aisley suddenly rose in pitch as she began an impassioned countdown:
“Ready—”
“Three, two, one—”
“Start!!!!”
At the command, twelve horses began to sprint towards the finish line. While other horses were still struggling to adapt to their limbs, No. 7 had already begun to accelerate smoothly, seemingly having undergone similar training before. As he gradually picked up speed and took the lead, the malice of other bettors began to pour onto him.
“Dagger, three meters away!”
Blondie’s voice gradually calmed down, his eyes glued to the racecourse, not missing a single detail.
The moment she received this information, Maggie immediately closed her eyes. Her face gradually turned pale, beads of sweat seeping from her forehead.
On the racecourse, No. 7 kicked off with his hind legs, leaping upwards, narrowly avoiding the first trap.
Correct.
As a medium, Maggie could break through the arena’s blockade and pass messages to Ji Guan inside—this was how she had previously established contact with Qi Qian, who had been turned into a gambling tool, to complete the cheating.
Although the first attempt succeeded, Maggie dared not relax in the slightest. She opened her eyes, groped for an energy bar nearby, and took a fierce bite:
“Continue!”
In the spectator seats outside the racecourse, seeing Ji Guan successfully avoid the first trap on screen, Wen Jianyan finally exhaled, realizing belatedly that his back was covered in cold sweat.
“Who is inside?”
“Maggie and Blondie,” Chen Mo said.
Hearing these two names, Wen Jianyan guessed the entire plan.
But he knew this alone wasn’t enough. As the race progressed, those remaining would be targeted more easily. After all, the means the racecourse provided to the crowd weren’t just obstacles.
However, before Wen Jianyan could voice his guess, he suddenly froze, seemingly realizing something:
“…But you guys stayed outside?”
Of course, Maggie and Blondie were the operational center of this logic. But the problem was, only those who bet on the champion horse could obtain the pass to the next level. Yet, one ticket could only buy one horse—this meant Chen Mo and the others bought tickets for everyone but only sent two people in, while the others waited outside.
Waiting for what?
Wen Jianyan didn’t think the answer was himself—after all, even he didn’t know when he could return from the Negative 18th Floor, so how could Chen Mo and the others be sure?
“Yes.” Chen Mo took a deep breath and said, “Because we have other things to do.”
Wen Jianyan: “What things?”
Chen Mo turned his head and pointed at the dealer on the screen.
The woman named Aisley sat upright on the screen, her tone impassioned and high-pitched, narrating such a cruel scene with abundant emotion. Behind her was a dark red room, with a single beam of light shining on her, making her the sole focus.
“Find her.” Chen Mo said calmly.
What Su Cheng brought them wasn’t just the Oracle’s current progress. More importantly, he provided information that only a Prophet could know and others had no way of finding out—
Where exactly the dealer, hiding behind the screen and manipulating this bloody show with terrifying means, was currently located.
Indeed, Ji Guan was one of their hopes for victory, but they couldn’t put all their eggs in one basket. If the plan went awry, they needed a means to fish him out, as well as a backup plan to reach the next level.
And previous experience on the Negative 2nd Floor told them—the dealer responsible for controlling the gambling game on each floor would definitely be the breakthrough point.
Wen Ya: “Also, we have a helper…”
As if to verify her words, before Wen Ya could finish, a ding was heard from not far away, and the elevator doors slowly opened.
Chen Cheng walked out of the elevator with a gloomy face, cursing indignantly as he walked: “I’m really fed up with people from your guild! Why do you guys torment me alone all day long?!”
Pinocchio shears him, then his guild shears him. What is wrong with you people…
Can’t you switch to a different sheep?
