Chapter 693: Solo
This sentence was no different from a blockbuster bomb.
Both outside the live broadcast room and inside it.
[……]
[What did the anchor just say? My signal isn’t very good, I don’t think I heard clearly.]
[He said… the two of them are dating… that non-human thing is indeed his boyfriend…]
[…………………………]
[Holy shit holy shit holy shit, they actually became a couple? Ahhhhh, anchor, you’re joking, right?!!]
[Ahhhhhhh, no way, no way, this must be a joke!! We were just randomly guessing, how did you guys become real?!!]
The majority of the viewers were in complete chaos, but a portion appeared very calm.
[Not surprised, ha.]
[Mm, not surprised.]
[The history between these two can be traced all the way back to when the livestream room first opened. Who the hell spends all day sticking together with their ‘enemy’ and ‘ally’, kissing and holding hands? It’s honestly more surprising that they only pierced this paper window now, right?!]
Unlike the situation inside the live broadcast room, where footage could be pulled up and replayed at any time, the situation outside was clearly much more complicated.
After dropping this sentence, Wen Jianyan walked straight into the elevator.
This time, there was no elevator operator.
Wen Jianyan’s gaze swept around, finally landing on the control panel next to the elevator. His movements involuntarily paused—just as Chen Mo had guessed earlier, this time, the cruise ship only had a total of three floors.
They were currently on the third floor, which meant the others should be scattered across the other two floors.
While Wen Jianyan was observing the internal structure of the elevator, the other three still stood firmly outside, maintaining the exact same posture as half a minute ago.
The time on their bodies seemed to have frozen from that moment on, not advancing by half a second. Reflected on the cold, smooth iron walls inside the elevator were three blank faces, wearing expressions as identical as if they had been copied and pasted: the same stiffness, the same blankness, the same horror.
They were just nailed firmly in place, motionless.
Wen Jianyan, who had already stepped into the elevator, looked up and urged:
“Why are you standing there not moving? Hurry up and come in.”
“……”
Only then did the three finally move their stiff legs, following him in without a word.
Even though their steps moved, their souls seemed to have not caught up yet.
“Did the others say which floor they’re on?”
Wen Jianyan asked.
“Has anyone replied to your messages?”
“…………Let me see.” Chen Mo very calmly lowered his head, but just as he raised his left hand, he realized his palm was empty—oh, his phone was actually in his right hand—so he calmly raised his right hand again, checked the messages on it, and then answered, “Not yet.”
“Then there’s no choice,” Wen Jianyan took a deep breath. “Let’s just pick a random floor first and see who we run into.”
“Okay.”
Chen Mo calmly nodded again.
He lowered his hand, preparing to put his phone back in its place, but he stuffed it three times before realizing his top actually didn’t have a pocket.
[……]
[What do I do, I kinda sympathize.]
[It looks like the system is still running normally, but in reality, it crashed a while ago.]]
[Hahahahaha, at least we have screen recordings to buffer the shock, but from their perspective, it’s probably just the President disappearing without warning for a long time, and the next time they see him, he brings back a wild man they’ve never seen before who isn’t even human, and then confirms all the rumors and comes out of the closet. How could they possibly be okay!]
The elevator doors slowly closed and began to operate.
The narrow space was exceptionally quiet; only the sound of the mechanical winch operating could be heard.
The three stood side by side at the back of the elevator, their expressions still blank.
Time had never seemed so long.
The time trapped in the narrow elevator was infinitely stretched out at this moment.
“……”
In the slowly operating elevator, Wu Zhu turned his head slightly.
His gaze landed on Wen Jianyan standing beside him, his golden eyes shining brightly.
Wen Jianyan was an extremely skilled pretender.
As long as he wanted to, he could come up with ten thousand reasons to cover things up flawlessly.
He was too good at lying. Even if he were caught kissing him on the spot, Wu Zhu believed he could use his silver tongue to turn black into white and wash himself completely clean.
And Wu Zhu didn’t care about this.
Whether Wen Jianyan admitted it or not didn’t matter much to him—this human, from head to toe, inside and out, even a single fallen strand of hair belonged to him. Every trace of his breath was tainted and monopolized by him, and that was enough. Aside from this, Wu Zhu didn’t mind what title he used for him outside, whether he crowned him with names like “friend” or “ally.” He would even very cooperatively whitewash the peace—
This wasn’t because he was so kind, tolerant, and willing to compromise for the greater good.
On the contrary. The only reason he restrained his desires was because he knew there was a greater reward waiting ahead.
After all, Wen Jianyan was so soft-hearted…
If he mistreated him outside, he would have plenty of opportunities in private to escalate things and push for more.
Precisely because of this, what just happened, let alone others not expecting it, even Wu Zhu himself hadn’t expected it.
Wen Jianyan would state the truth so simply, easily, and straightforwardly.
Telling everyone so casually:
“We are dating.”
“He is my boyfriend.”
……So weird.
The left side of his chest cavity, the place that had been empty for a long time, became hot and strange.
As if an animal had been inexplicably stuffed inside, bouncing and crashing around continuously.
That intense, violently destructive desire with nowhere to vent wrestled with another softer, more struggling emotion. On one hand, Wu Zhu wanted to pin the culprit who sparked this emotional storm right there, kissing, biting, and eating him bite by bite. On the other hand, he hesitated under some unknown constraint, as if his hands, feet, and neck were bound by invisible chains he couldn’t break free from, making him afraid, reluctant, and unwilling.
So, in the end, he just leaned in slightly, a little more, and a little more, pressing his shoulder against the other’s shoulder.
“……” Wen Jianyan tilted his head somewhat uncomfortably.
He could feel Wu Zhu’s overly scorching gaze. The intense emotions poured out like tangible lava, falling onto his body.
And this was often the precursor to the other going crazy.
Wen Jianyan hesitated, then moved his dangling index finger, comfortingly hooking the other’s slender finger that was close at hand.
Such a small movement between the two of them would normally be very difficult to spot.
But unfortunately, this elevator was simply too small.
The three people in the back were struck by lightning, their eyes going blank once again.
[Anchor? Anchor?]
[Anchors, are you guys okay?]
[Why does it feel like they just recovered a little bit, only to instantly have their souls leave their bodies again.]
Finally, after a long descent, the elevator arrived.
Accompanied by a ding, the elevator doors slowly opened. What appeared before them was a scene identical to the previous floor—a long, seemingly endless corridor, locked cabin doors on both sides, and dim, ominous lighting.
Narrow circular portholes were embedded in the walls. Outside, it was pitch black, making it impossible to see anything clearly.
“Fifty-five,” Wu Zhu suddenly spoke.
The three who followed Wen Jianyan out of the elevator all froze, looking up in confusion.
Wen Jianyan explained: “He’s talking about the total number of people on this floor right now.”
Wu Zhu had always been restricted in the cruise ship instance.
The reconstructed cruise ship instance had clearly long since taken the existence of Wu Zhu, this unstable factor, into its calculations—so, even though he was far more complete than the last time, the suppression he faced had only increased.
But even so, his advantage as an anomaly hadn’t been completely erased.
Even if his perception couldn’t penetrate walls, he could still sense the aura of humans.
“The reason I was able to regroup with you so quickly was also because he smelled the scent of blood coming from your direction.” Wen Jianyan tilted his head and said.
Wu Zhu: “Mm.”
Only then did he spare a bit of attention for the three of them, nodding condescendingly and saying: “You’re welcome.”
The three: “……………………”
No, who’s thanking you?!
[Hahahahahahaha!]
[Hahaha, I feel like daggers are about to shoot out of the three anchors’ eyes!]
[Fight! Fight! Hurry up and fight!]
Seemingly noticing the slightly tense atmosphere in the air, Wen Jianyan cleared his throat and subtly changed the subject: “Cough, has anyone replied to you yet?”
Chen Mo took a deep breath, pressed down his twitching brow, lowered his head, took out his phone, and glanced at it.
Up until now, still no one had replied.
“Not yet.” Chen Mo frowned and put his phone back in his pocket.
The only thing they could do now was to go to the locations of the red dots representing their teammates on the map and search for them one by one—unfortunately, just from the 2D map, it was very difficult for them to determine whether that red dot was on the same floor as them. This meant that every search had a fifty percent chance of coming up empty.
This wasn’t completely unacceptable, though.
“Let’s go, we’ll go find the point closest to us first,” Wen Jianyan thought for a moment and said.
Without delay, the group immediately set off.
Although the area here wasn’t vastly different from the floor they were on previously, the internal structure was entirely different. The long corridor was deep and narrow, unpredictable, like a massive maze.
The empty corridor echoed with the rapid and muffled footsteps of the group.
During their journey, Ji Guan kept a gloomy face the whole time.
Finally, as if he couldn’t hold it in any longer, he poked Chen Mo’s back not far ahead and lowered his voice:
“Hey… hey!”
Chen Mo paused his steps and turned to look back.
“What exactly is the situation with the President and that…?” He kept his voice very low, sounding as if the words were squeezed through his teeth.
“……” Chen Mo fell silent for a moment. “I know just as much as you do.”
Maybe only a tiny bit more.
“I carefully thought back just now, and it seems the President did mention before that a non-human in the instances was constantly chasing after him and causing him trouble. But he glossed over it casually at the time, so none of us pressed further. But thinking about it now, the more I think about it, the more something feels wrong.”
Ji Guan’s expression was gloomy, looking exactly like an angry old father whose cute daughter was abducted by some punk thug outside.
“Do you think the non-human who caused him trouble and this one… could be the same one?”
“Wait, if that’s really the case,”
Not knowing what he had imagined, Ji Guan drew in a sharp breath of cold air, “Could the President be forced?!”
Chen Mo: “……”
“I actually think,” he briefly recalled and said tactfully, “the President doesn’t look unwilling.”
“No,” but Ji Guan couldn’t listen. The more he thought about it, the more pained he felt, the more indignant he became. He gritted his teeth viciously and said in a low voice, “If that’s really the case, even if I have to risk my life, I’ll make that thing pay the price—”
“Actually,”
Blond, who was walking not far away, quietly sidled over. Who knows how long he had been secretly listening. “I actually think you don’t need to worry too much.”
Ji Guan: “Shoo, shoo, shoo, what do you know?”
“How do I not know?” Blond was a bit angry. “I saw that guy a long time ago, more than once!”
What?!
Hearing this, the two whipped their heads around to look at Blond.
Blond shrank his shoulders under the sharp gazes shot by the two simultaneously, stammering: “Wh-what?”
“How long ago?” Chen Mo stared at him and took a step forward.
“How many times exactly?” Ji Guan glared at him and grabbed his shoulders.
Blond was forced by the two into a somewhat nervous state, involuntarily stepping back: “N-not that long ago, the number of times… the number of times… just two or three times…”
“Spit it out clearly!” Ji Guan’s expression was ferocious.
“Anyway, the first time was at the Xingwang Hotel,” Blond said honestly. He looked at Chen Mo and said, “You still remember the President pulling me into the bathroom back then, right?”
Chen Mo froze, quickly finding the corresponding vague memory in his mind, and couldn’t help but be severely shocked:
“……That early?!”
“Mm.” Blond nodded vaguely.
“What exactly happened? Tell me in detail!” Although he hadn’t participated in that instance, it didn’t stop Ji Guan from pressing urgently.
“That guy was following beside the Captain all along…”
This was a relatively tactful way of putting it.
“Anyway, at the time, the President told me this was a friend of his and told me not to tell anyone else,” Blond hesitated, “Just… just… just…”
“Just what?” Chen Mo pressed.
“Don’t be so loud…” Blond covered his ears, shrinking his head back like a quail.
Ji Guan was getting a bit anxious: “Then tell me clearly!”
“Just, just—” Blond broke the jar since it was already cracked, “Just already sneaking around and having an unclear relationship…”
“……”
In the back, Wen Jianyan seemed to subtly stumble.
[Wait, the content of their gossip hasn’t been heard by the subject involved, right?]
[Do you even need to ask? Isn’t it 100% guaranteed he heard it? The corridor is so narrow, so quiet, and their voices aren’t exactly quiet.]
[Then why isn’t he coming over to dispel the rumors this time?]
[Hahahahahahaha because this isn’t a rumor either!]
[Ahhhhh, why isn’t the [Integrity First] livestream room open! I really want to see the anchor have a breakdown from up close!]
[Urgent, urgent!]
“?!”
Suddenly, Blond, who was walking in front, slammed to a halt without warning.
“Wait a minute,” he said.
The relaxed atmosphere from just now was swept clean, replaced by a sense of gravity.
The other two also seemed to realize something. Their gazes fell on Blond, asking: “What did you see?”
Blond looked up, his scarlet eyes staring intently into the void not far away, and said slowly:
“There are six anchors ahead, none of our members, all coming aggressively.”
“……” Chen Mo halted his steps, narrowing his eyes. The fingers hanging by his side twitched slightly, seemingly grasping at something in the air.
Ji Guan narrowed his eyes, letting out a sneer: “Damn it, here we go again.”
He rolled his neck. The tattoos on his shoulders and neck bulged along with the surging blood flow, the malicious ghost appearing incredibly lifelike with the movement of his muscles and bones. “It’s fine, this time we’ll let them taste—”
However, before his words were finished, they were interrupted once again.
“Uh…”
Blond blinked slowly. Although the previous solemnity still hung awkwardly on his face, his tone had lost its prior tension. He said dryly, “N-never mind.”
“…………Ah???” Ji Guan stood frozen in place. “What?”
What do you mean, never mind?
Blond raised his hand and scratched his hair, his expression complicated: “Just now, a lot of… um… black things emerged from the ground over there. Anyway, the problem is solved.”
“Wait, wait, wait,”
Ji Guan was completely confused,
“Tell me clearly, what black things? How was it solved—”
Not far away, the black-haired, golden-eyed man nodded expressionlessly:
“You’re welcome.”
Chen Mo: “……”
Ji Guan: “……”
Wow, it turns out there really is someone even more annoying than Chen Cheng.
Severed limbs were piled on the floor, their cross-sections neat. The corpses lay in a mirror-smooth pool of blood, their half-open eyes lifeless, reflecting the mess all over the floor.
Sitting high above was a little girl who wasn’t very tall. Her fingers were bloody, and she was humming an out-of-tune, intermittent song. Her two slender calves swung back and forth, her childlike voice echoing in the narrow corridor, inexplicably appearing somewhat eerie.
Not far away stood a tall young woman.
She lowered her eyes, panting slightly:
“Which wave of people is this?”
“Mm?”
The humming in the corridor stopped. The little girl sitting high up raised her eyes, letting out a careless sound.
“Fifth, sixth… seventh wave?”
She tilted her head, counting casually.
“I don’t know, I can’t remember clearly.”
Wen Ya looked up, her gaze falling on Orange Candy not far away.
Even though this wasn’t the first time she had seen it with her own eyes, she still found it incredible.
How could such a tiny, slender body erupt with such terrifying, nearly destructive power in combat?
The anchors coming to hunt them were endless. Even she felt slightly exhausted dealing with them, but Orange Candy was different. She was like a natural-born meat grinder, operating and slaughtering ruthlessly, indiscriminately, and tirelessly—only at this moment could others clearly realize why, among so many formidable anchors in Nightmare, only Orange Candy was called the “PVP Maniac.”
Buzz, buzz!
Just then, the phone in Wen Ya’s pocket vibrated.
She lowered her head and took out her phone.
Not far away, Orange Candy abruptly looked up.
“Who sent a message?”
“……”
Wen Ya lowered her eyes, her brows tightly furrowed, her gaze landing on the phone screen.
“It’s Chen Mo.”
Orange Candy’s eyes lit up. She nimbly hopped down from the pile of corpses:
“What is it, what is it? Did they find Pinocchio?”
“……No,” Wen Ya’s frown deepened. She looked up, saying slowly, “It’s a call for help from Chen Mo.”
Orange Candy’s brows furrowed.
She stepped closer, looking at Wen Ya’s phone screen.
There was no extra information on it, just three short words.
“Save me.”
“Oh… so it’s a call for help.”
Orange Candy shrugged. “We were planning on meeting up early anyway.”
She picked up the machete lying to the side, which had already been dyed a glaring red by fresh blood. Her slender wrists formed a stark contrast with the heavy, massive blade. She said carelessly, “Let’s go, let’s go help them.”
“……”
Wen Ya frowned, lowered her head, and her gaze fell on the screen once again.
For some reason, she felt something was wrong.
Based on her understanding of Chen Mo, he wasn’t someone who would send such a vague message like “Save me”… This didn’t seem like his style.
“What’s wrong?” Orange Candy stood still, turning her head to look at her without a care in the world.
“……It’s nothing.”
Wen Ya took a deep breath and shook her head.
Regardless, there was one thing Orange Candy said that was right.
Their goal was to regroup with each other. Even if the person they were going to meet wasn’t Chen Mo, it would be someone else.
Whatever doubts she had in her heart right now could be set aside for a moment. Everything would be discussed after they met up.
She stepped forward, keeping up with Orange Candy’s pace.
The corridor was bottomless, the path ahead unknown, with only the lights flickering constantly.
Bzz-bzz.
The lights flickered on and off.
It was as if some impending storm was brewing in the air. Dead silence surrounded them, the atmosphere viscous, quiet enough to suffocate.
“……Alright.”
Hugo looked up. Beneath his heavily pressed brow, his lead-gray eyes were as cold and ruthless as steel.
Chen Cheng stood in place, the pitch-black blade hanging by his side, his entire person motionless. The pale light fell from above, flowing down from his expressionless profile, spreading over his tense shoulders and arms.
He stared intently at the tall man just a few steps away from him.
“Then, as you wish.”
Hugo lowered his eyes and placed the cigarette between his lips.
The next second, Chen Cheng moved. His slender, vigorous figure leaped up like a cheetah, charging straight forward swiftly and silently!
He knew what Hugo’s talent was, so since that was the case, his best chance of winning was to strike first!
However, he had barely moved when he felt an invisible heavy pressure fall on his shoulders, forcibly pressing him into the ground!
Crack, crack—
Chen Cheng’s body sank uncontrollably. The veins on his tense neck popped, and the ground beneath his feet buckled under the unbearable weight, cracking into spiderweb-like fine lines.
Hugo seemed oblivious.
Click.
Accompanied by a faint metallic sound, a golden-red flame leaped up, illuminating his sharp, tired eyes.
The cigarette was lit.
Slender, pale strands of smoke rose from between his fingers, circling around his body as if possessing a consciousness of their own.
As for Chen Cheng, that momentary obstruction just now was nothing to him. In the blink of an eye, he had already broken free from the item’s control, his speed not slowing down by half a point!
In a flash, the pitch-black Tang Blade struck silently. Cold light flowed along the edge of the blade like congealed frost. The closer it got, the faster it became, so fast one could almost hear the sharp sound of it piercing the air—!
Hugo merely raised his eyes, calmly staring at the approaching young enemy. The rapidly magnifying blade reflected in his gray pupils.
Smoke surged from his fingers, tightly tangling around the blade.
“……Tch.” Chen Cheng pulled the corners of his lips, revealing a mocking smile.
The pitch-black blade suddenly spun. The smoke, resilient as refined steel, was as fragile as silk before the blade. The next second, accompanied by an ear-piercing sound of tearing silk, the wall of smoke was cleanly severed!
“—!”
Hugo’s pupils contracted sharply.
“Bang!!!” The Tang Blade crashed heavily into the ground. The incomparably sharp blade sank deep into the floor, as easily as cutting through butter.
“……”
Chen Cheng lifted his blade, stood straight, and looked a few steps away.
Hugo stood not far away. The smoke that had yanked him away at the critical moment dispersed behind him.
He lowered his eyes, raised his finger, and slowly rubbed his cheek.
A bloody gash stretched across his cheekbone, bright red blood slowly seeping out from it.
Hugo said: “So it’s this type of talent.”
The strength of his smoke was extremely high. Whether in offense or defense, it was nearly invincible in PVP. Even so, Chen Cheng’s talent just happened to conceptually counter his, which could be said to be very troublesome.
“Very good.”
Hugo commented objectively.
No wonder Eternal Day still poured everything into nurturing him despite him being so rebellious.
“Are you scared?” Chen Cheng held his blade lazily. Even though his mouth was still spouting arrogant, harsh words, his eyes hadn’t relaxed in the slightest. “If you surrender now, I could show some respect for the elderly. For the sake of you being older than me, I could spare your life—how about it, think about it?”
Hugo ignored his provocation, merely raising his eyes. His temperatureless gaze landed on Chen Cheng, seemingly searching for something, his eyes as calm as an icy lake.
“However, I’m afraid the price won’t be small.”
Beside him, a massive gray net of smoke rose, growing and expanding rapidly, gradually filling the entire corridor. Under the increasingly dim lights, it looked like some dormant behemoth, silently opening its gaping maw.
A sharp glint flashed in Chen Cheng’s eyes. He abruptly took a step back, the pitch-black Tang Blade carving an arc in the air, slashing through the sharp threads of smoke pressing towards him.
However, behind one thread of smoke was a second, a third… hundreds and thousands of them.
Hugo walked forward slowly, looking down from above:
“Let me see how long you can last.”
“Until you die, of course.”
Chen Cheng raised an eyebrow.
On his left forearm, in the shadow where no one could peek, two long, narrow trails of blood quietly surfaced—corresponding exactly to the two slashes he had just swung—fresh blood seeped through the fabric, spreading, creeping toward the cuff bit by bit, and then—
Drip, drop.
Fresh blood smashed down.
Wen Jianyan lowered his eyes, frowning slightly, looking at the corpse lying on the ground.
The other had already lost their breath. Their arm hung low, fresh blood dripping from their cold fingertips, gathering into small pools of blood one after another on the floor.
“Which location is this?”
Ji Guan asked.
“The third one.” Chen Mo stepped forward and answered.
Since entering this floor, they had continuously gone to three locations where red dots were displayed on the map. However, every single time, they came up empty—either the red dot moved in the opposite direction before they arrived, or the red dot didn’t move, but there was no one there (which meant the other party should be on a different floor)—during this time, they hadn’t met a single companion, only endless attacks from enemies.
Even though they still found this so-called “President’s boyfriend” unpleasing to the eye, they had to admit that having such a “non-human” existence in their team was far more beneficial than harmful to them—otherwise, under this intensity of back-to-back battles, given the limited abilities of a single team, they would still be worn to death alive.
At the same time, the viewers were discussing the same topic.
[Sigh… am I the only one who thinks this Wu Zhu guy is breaking the balance a bit too much?]
[I have to say, the power gap between humans and monsters is still too vast. Any squad that runs into them has almost no ability to fight back. This power disparity is truly a bit ridiculous.]
[Right, once or twice is fine, but if it happens too much, it gets boring.]
[Speaking of which, is anyone paying attention to the total number of people in this instance? How many pursuers are left in this instance now?]
[Oh my god, there are less than half left… Isn’t this over? Even with that number of pursuers before, they didn’t wear this group down to death. Now there’s even less hope!]
[Hurry, hurry, hurry, where’s Nightmare, save the situation! At least balance the gameplay a bit!]
Wen Jianyan looked toward Chen Mo: “What about the others, have they replied to your messages?”
Chen Mo lowered his head, glanced at his phone screen, and frowned:
“……Not yet.”
Even he realized that the situation was not right.
In this instance, all of them were wanted. The intensity of the battles would only increase, not decrease. Amidst such dense crises, it was normal not to have time to look at the phone and reply to messages for a while. However, so much time had passed, yet there was no news from the other side, not even a single reply had appeared. This was truly a bit too strange.
“Wait a minute, I’ll ask about their situation again—”
Saying that, Chen Mo opened the dialogue box. However, before he could do anything, he was stopped by Wen Jianyan’s words:
“There’s no need.”
No need?
The few of them froze, involuntarily turning their heads to look.
Wen Jianyan strode over from not far away. He lowered his eyes, took the phone from Chen Mo’s hand, and breezily turned off the screen. He raised his head, the flickering lights reflected deep in his light-colored eyes: “There’s no point in looking at this thing anymore.”
Others might not have seen through what tricks Nightmare was playing, but Wen Jianyan was different.
Having fought and struggled against Nightmare for so long, no one knew better than him just how shameless the opponent he faced was—especially now, it probably didn’t mind using any bargaining chips, employing any dirty tricks.
From the first day they entered Nightmare, they had obtained this communication device, the phone.
Like all tools, it was so silent and reliable that many of them had forgotten…
Even if it was a tool, it was still a tool provided by Nightmare.
“I’m afraid, from the moment I was captured by the livestream room, this thing was no longer reliable.”
Wen Jianyan cast a casual glance into the void.
Even though they knew the other party couldn’t see them, the viewers behind the lenses couldn’t help but shudder the moment his gaze swept over them.
“Wait.”
Ji Guan’s expression turned solemn,
“Are you saying these locations are fake, that Nightmare is deceiving us?”
“Mm.” Wen Jianyan withdrew his gaze and said.
Chen Mo’s expression turned dark: “Then doesn’t that mean the message I just sent wasn’t received by the other side either?”
“I’m afraid so.” Wen Jianyan’s eyes flickered, speaking slowly. “However… that’s not the problem I’m most worried about.”
The communication of information between them and their teammates had been severed, this was clearly beyond doubt. But what if… what it could do wasn’t just severing? —Deceiving Wen Jianyan wasn’t very useful. After all, Wen Jianyan made a living out of it; the difficulty of deceiving him was high, the payoff was low, and it might even carry the risk of giving him intelligence. Therefore, on his end, the simplest and most efficient way was to block all information, leaving him with nothing—but that wasn’t the case for the others.
If it could cut it off, it could forge it.
It was only at this moment that the true meaning of the four words “Going alone means death” began to be truly understood.
All those who hadn’t managed to regroup in time would find it very difficult to regroup with anyone else later—from the moment Nightmare intervened, the connections between them were completely severed, turning into small, closed cocoons thrown into the boundless darkness. Meanwhile, the familiar voices of friends ringing out from not far away would lead them blindly forward until they fell into an unknowable abyss.
The expressions of the few men turned ugly.
“Fuck!” Ji Guan couldn’t resist cursing. “How can it be so shameless!”
“We have to find the others immediately,” Chen Mo’s face was as dark as water. “Otherwise it’ll be too late.”
However, even as he said this, he had no idea how to actually find the others.
The cruise ship had three floors. Whether there were teammates on this floor, and how many there were, were all unknowns. And when the only location coordinates they could see were fake, searching for people in such a massive map was almost like finding a needle in a haystack—yet Nightmare possessed the whereabouts of all of them and could completely make them waste their time in vain.
Even though Blond’s talent was useful, its range was very limited.
On the previous floor, they had practically cleared more than half the map before concluding that there were no teammates on their floor.
And for them right now, time was life.
“……”
Wen Jianyan pondered for a long time, then raised his eyes to look at Wu Zhu standing beside him:
“How many people are left on this floor?”
Wu Zhu: “Forty-one.”
Fourteen people had died at their hands, which meant no one had taken the elevator to leave this place during this time.
Wen Jianyan nodded: “If anyone else disappears next, tell me immediately.”
He continued asking: “On this floor, aside from the areas we’ve already passed through, in what other direction is there the scent of blood?”
Chen Mo froze for a moment, instantly understanding Wen Jianyan’s intention.
Indeed, as long as Nightmare was present, they wouldn’t be able to see their teammates’ coordinates from any phone.
But that didn’t mean the other anchors couldn’t!
They would follow the trails of the red dots provided by Nightmare, attempting to kill those so-called “bounty targets” to obtain rewards—and this was precisely Nightmare’s goal.
By following the scent of blood, they could find the battlefield.
Where there was a battlefield, there were allies.
Wu Zhu raised his head, his golden eyes gazing not far away, seemingly searching for something.
Soon, he withdrew his gaze and looked at Wen Jianyan:
“Over there.”
“Which way exactly?”
Standing at the crossroad of the intersecting corridors, Orange Candy pressed somewhat impatiently.
“Don’t be anxious,” even under Orange Candy’s urging, Wen Ya’s voice remained elegant and calm. She raised her head, her gaze landing in one direction, and then she stepped forward. “Chen Mo and the others should be just up ahead. Follow me.”
“Okay!”
Hearing that the boring journey was about to end, the irritation on Orange Candy’s face was swept clean. She dragged her blade, skipping along behind Wen Ya, casually chatting with her as they walked,
“Who do you think could be the person making your Vice President so desperate for help?”
Orange Candy tilted her head, counting on her fingers.
“Hugo? No, it shouldn’t be. Although that guy is pretty strong, it’s still very difficult to make him make a move.”
“Oracle and Eternal Day… unlikely.”
Oracle had declined since Gentleman’s death, and Eternal Day had never been a guild known for combat power. Even though they still possessed substantial strength, judging by the sharp intuition Orange Candy had honed in PVP, they didn’t seem like the culprits capable of pushing Chen Mo’s group to such a state.
“Then is it Dark Fire?”
Orange Candy pondered for a long time, nodding deeply,
“Mm, they’re highly likely.”
She revealed a giggling expression once again:
“Of course, with me joining in, it’s not certain anymore!”
“Yes, yes.” While looking down and studying the screen in her hand, Wen Ya chimed in without changing her expression. During their time together, she had gradually mastered the technique of getting along with Orange Candy. “If you make a move, we’ll definitely be able to turn the tide.”
Orange Candy, having her fur stroked the right way, was exceptionally proud: “That’s right, that’s right.”
The two walked briskly along the corridor.
Just as they were about to reach the location of the red dot after turning a corner… suddenly, Wen Ya’s expression changed.
“What’s wrong?” Orange Candy asked.
“The red dot…” Wen Ya’s gaze locked dead onto the screen, her voice tight. “Disappeared.”
It was self-evident what the disappearance of the red dot meant.
The rescue was too late; the target died.
She suppressed her slightly trembling fingers and opened the bounty tasks—on it, the names of Chen Mo and the others were starkly listed, not disappeared, nor showing as completed.
Strange, too strange.
With almost no need for words, the two started running together simultaneously.
After rounding the corner of the corridor at top speed, they finally arrived at the position where the red dot had last appeared—the corridor was completely empty, without half a shadow of a person. Instead, there was a massive fissure stretching across the wall.
It crawled abruptly and crookedly on the wall, like an ugly, unhealable scar.
Below it was pitch black, with seemingly freezing wind blowing from within.
Beneath that scar-like massive gap were actually stairs extending downwards section by section.
It just extended downwards silently like this, its end vanishing into the depths of flickering shadows. It seemed there were living creatures squirming inside, as if some inexplicable existence was silently peeking out from within, making one inexplicably creeped out and instinctively feel fear.
Could it be…
Were Chen Mo and the others swallowed by this gap, which was why their coordinates disappeared?
After all, judging from the bounty list, they hadn’t died yet.
Since that was the case, they were left with only one choice.
“Let’s go,” Orange Candy took the lead, stepping straight towards the fissure without hesitation. It seemed to her, there was no existence in the entire world worth fearing. “Let’s go see what exactly is going on.”
At the same time.
In the Anchor Square, a notification popped up abruptly.
The moment it appeared, it attracted the attention of all the viewers.
[Livestream room ‘Hua’ is opening…]
