Lucky Cruise Ship
Chapter 607: Are you crazy?!
…Quit gambling?
Hearing this, everyone present involuntarily contracted their pupils.
“Are you crazy?” One anchor couldn’t help but step forward and question, “Isn’t that equivalent to sending us to our deaths?”
In the Lucky Cruise instance, the points an anchor possessed were almost equivalent to their remaining lifespan.
“We can’t afford the room fee for tonight at all—”
“Tonight?” The young man turned his head to look at him, his gaze sweeping over him indifferently, a faint, barely-there smile on his lips. Swept by such a gaze, the anchor felt a prickle on his back and an urge to retreat.
The young man leaned forward, casually picked up a glass from the bar, placed it on its side at the edge of the gambling table, and let go. The glass rolled rapidly, clatter-clatter, and smashed into pieces on the floor.
The sound of shattering glass echoed throughout the hall. Instantly, silence reigned.
“?!”
Everyone stared in astonishment at the glass shards on the floor, almost unable to process this sudden information.
Until Wen Jianyan broke the silence with an understatement.
“The ship is sinking.”
Wen Jianyan: “Instead of thinking about whether you can earn enough for the room fee, you might as well think about whether you can live until tonight.”
These words were like dropping a bombshell. Instantly, the scene that had been barely controlled became agitated again.
“The ship is sinking? How is that possible?!”
“Bullsh*t, he’s lying!”
As the creator of chaos, Wen Jianyan leaned against the gambling table, watching the scene before him with interest, as if everything had nothing to do with him.
However, anchors who could survive until now were not ordinary people. Without much effort, the chaos was curbed again, and reason once more gained the upper hand.
One of the anchors stepped forward, his eagle-like eyes staring tightly at Wen Jianyan, and slowly said:
“What evidence do you have? And even if the ship sinking is true, how can you guarantee everything will happen tonight?”
“I think there is one thing you haven’t figured out.”
Wen Jianyan looked at him.
Behind him were fierce faces and dripping blade tips.
The speaker smiled slightly: “I don’t seem to be trying to convince you.”
At these words, everyone’s heart tightened.
Awed by the news of the sinking ship, they had almost forgotten how cruelly the other party had suppressed them just minutes ago—the blood on the ground was not yet cold, and the Tenants wearing pitch-black masks were watching hungrily. All of this was inextricably linked to this Pinocchio.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to force an answer from you,” the speaker’s arrogance weakened. “It’s just… if the ship doesn’t sink tonight, we still need enough points to pay for the room…”
“I see.” The other party nodded, looking very amenable. “That is understandable.”
The anchors exchanged glances, seeing the same secret desire in each other’s eyes.
They knew Pinocchio’s point count was terrifying. If he were willing to help them pay the room fee, then everything would be easy to talk about.
Maybe they could even lie about their point amounts and make a profit…
“However…”
“Since you’ve lived until now, you shouldn’t have zero savings,” the young man smiled, his tone still gentle and polite. “If you don’t, then there’s no difference between dying a day early or a day late, is there?”
“…”
Everyone’s expressions changed dramatically.
“What I just said wasn’t a proposal.”
For the first time, Wen Jianyan put away the smile on his face. He stared at everyone indifferently, a certain cruelty hidden in his voice.
“It’s a decision.”
He raised his hand, and a stack of gold-stamped papers appeared in his palm—those were mandatory contracts from the Nightmare.
“Now, everyone please line up to come forward and sign the contract.”
Wen Jianyan smiled again.
He turned his head and said to Chen Cheng in a light tone, “Whoever resists, cut off their head.”
Chen Cheng held the pitch-black Tang sword in his hand, revealing a wicked smile: “Yes, sir.”
Just like that, the anchors on the entire Floor B2 were forced to sign the contract.
Watching the last anchor hand the contract to him with a gloomy face, Wen Jianyan nodded with a smile:
“Thank you all for your cooperation. We won’t disturb you any longer. Goodbye.”
Who wants to see you, this god of plague, again!
The other anchors gritted their teeth so hard they almost shattered.
After leaving Floor B2 and entering the elevator, Wen Jianyan slowly let out a sigh of relief, his shoulders relaxing slightly—what just happened seemed like a sure win for him, but in reality, it was perilous.
The anchors on this ship were not simple characters, especially those who had survived until now. To some extent, they had all tasted the blood of infighting. If they really tore their faces and decided to fight him to the death, his chances of winning weren’t high. His team members were indeed strong, but they couldn’t waste their talents here. Wu Zhu looked intimidating, but he was restricted everywhere in this instance. If he participated too much, the Nightmare’s reaction would be unpredictable. Moreover, he still had the wound transferred from himself that couldn’t be healed within the instance—
Wen Jianyan’s eyes flashed, stopping his overly extended imagination in time.
In short, although his team was powerful, they couldn’t completely control this floor without losses.
However… not being simple also meant they were not companions dependent on each other for life and death, but each had their own thoughts and fought for themselves.
Chen Cheng and An Xin’s talents had astonishing destructive power. Their suppression of those who made the first move was intended to create deterrence through violence.
Wu Zhu’s existence leaned more towards containment. In a situation full of crises, their decisions would inevitably tend towards conservatism.
Revealing the information that the cruise ship would sink also had a deeper meaning. For anchors in this instance, gambling and winning more meant living longer. But no one had considered: what if the ship sinks?
—Then surely no one would survive.
When gambling could no longer be equated with survival, they naturally were no longer willing to risk their lives for it.
In this way, with the power of just a small squad, relying on strange tactics, Wen Jianyan forcefully controlled high-level anchors several times their number.
“One floor done,” Wen Jianyan narrowed his eyes and said. “Two more floors.”
Chen Cheng snorted a laugh: “Easy.”
Ding.
Floor B1 arrived.
Just like that, using the same iron fist, Wen Jianyan easily dismantled the remaining two floors one after another.
The anchors within were forced to sign mandatory contracts—people like Figaro, who could ignore the Nightmare’s restraints, were rare. That meant if they wanted to gamble again, they would have to bear the cost of losing their hands, legs, or even heads.
Whether in reality or in an instance, the dealer’s power was far greater than the gambler’s.
However, there were exceptions to everything.
When all the gamblers were controlled by one person, the situation was completely reversed.
Thus, at almost zero cost, Wen Jianyan thoroughly controlled three floors of casinos.
Wen Jianyan fished something out of his pocket and tossed it to An Xin:
“Here, share this with Chen Cheng.”
“This is?” An Xin looked at the tube of transparent liquid in confusion.
“An item from the gachapon,” Wen Jianyan said. “Reduces talent cooldown time and removes negative statuses.”
A shadow passed over An Xin’s face: “Tong Yao?”
Wen Jianyan glanced at him: “Mhm.”
Before parting last time, Tong Yao gave him three gachapon capsules.
The items in two of the capsules were identical. One tube was used before entering Floor B5, and the other was saved until now.
No one could have imagined…
That after that, it would be farewell forever.
“Whoa, indeed not bad,” Chen Cheng strutted over, clearly oblivious to the current atmosphere, and extended his hand naturally. “Give it to me.”
An Xin reflexively withdrew his hand: “What for?”
Chen Cheng glanced at him: “What’s the fuss? I put in the most effort just now, so I drink first. What’s the problem?”
“Ha?” An Xin looked furious. “What did you say?”
Chen Cheng raised his voice expressionlessly: “I said—I put in the most effort—”
“…”
Wen Ya rolled her eyes and expressed her opinion on this meaningless, childish argument:
“Boring.”
After her sharp comment, she turned to look at Wen Jianyan and asked:
“President, what’s next?”
Wen Jianyan: “Rest temporarily.”
He narrowed his eyes, looked up at the second floor of the casino covered by reflective glass, and said:
“Then… wait.”
Away from the crowd, Wen Jianyan leaned against the wall, arms crossed, eyes lowered, thinking about something unknown.
Suddenly, a cold touch brushed past his cheekbone.
Wen Jianyan reflexively dodged backward and looked up at Wu Zhu: “What are you doing?”
There was a smear of red on Wu Zhu’s thumb. He rubbed it: “Blood.”
“Oh,” Wen Jianyan responded vaguely, raising his hand to wipe his cheek with his sleeve. “Thanks.”
He didn’t look at Wu Zhu, just replied in a calm voice:
“Just tell me next time, don’t touch me.”
“When you were in the casino,”
As if not noticing Wen Jianyan’s deliberately stiff attitude, Wu Zhu praised with undisguised candor,
“You looked very good.”
Wen Jianyan: “…”
He choked, seeming a bit flustered by this sudden compliment.
His brain worked rapidly, searching for all distant yet polite, appropriate yet not misleading replies, but for a moment, he couldn’t find a suitable answer.
Wu Zhu wasn’t lying.
The way Wen Jianyan controlled the whole situation just now was excessively good-looking in his eyes.
Beautiful, powerful, arrogant, cruel—possessing almost every trait worthy of praise.
He really liked seeing Wen Jianyan living so passionately, and as time passed, this fondness became stronger and harder to ignore. He didn’t even hesitate to suppress his desire to kill and eat for this. In short—
“Seeing you just now,”
Wu Zhu thought for a moment and said again in a straightforward tone:
“I got hard.”
In the “Integrity First” livestream room chat:
[…]
[Huh?]
[Huh? What? Huh??]
[Wait?? Bro? What did you say?!!]
Wen Jianyan’s face instantly flushed with blood.
He jumped up, looked around like a thief to confirm no one heard what Wu Zhu said, then looked at the other party—the stiff attitude he forced just now fell apart, leaving no trace—revealing a terrified expression as if seeing a ghost:
“Are you crazy?!”
“Hm?” Wu Zhu looked puzzled.
He didn’t quite understand what was wrong with his direct expression of fondness and desire.
As a non-human, he had always been unable to understand human shame in this regard.
“Are you sick—!” Realizing his volume was uncontrollably rising again, Wen Jianyan immediately shut his mouth. He squeezed his eyes shut forcefully, took a deep breath, then lowered his voice, gritted his teeth, and asked word by word: “Do you know what can be said and what cannot be said on what occasion?”
Wu Zhu: “Oh.”
He thought for a moment: “Then what occasion should I wait for to say it?”
Wen Jianyan: “……………”
“You! Can’t! Say! It! On! Any! Occasion!”
__
Author’s Note:
Yes, this is what our serious allies look like. Oh, it’s not a big problem.
