Plunging straight into the water from the deck, the immense force of the impact left Ji Xun disoriented, completely unaware of his surroundings.
No vision, no hearing.
His body fell helplessly into the depths, dragged down by the heavy iron chains and the engine block.
Even his consciousness, which should have existed independently—elevated above the flesh—felt as though it were sucked into an oceanic whirlpool, reduced to a muddled blur.
Yet amidst this haze, his perceptions grew extraordinary sharp, so acute that they almost superseded his eyes and ears.
Ji Xun could feel—or perhaps even see.
He saw someone dive down from the tender boat: Huo Ranyin. Like a swift, agile fish, battling the wind and cutting through the surging waves, Huo Ranyin propelled himself forward with a powerful stroke, swimming rapidly toward the spot where Ji Xun had fallen.
Closer.
Even closer.
Ji Xun’s sinking body suddenly jolted. Huo Ranyin caught hold of him and began tightly wrapping something around him.
Moments later, oxygen—vital for human life—was pumped into his mouth.
His pitch-black eyes and buzzing ears finally began to recover. A single thread of darkness was pulled away from before his eyes, allowing light to seep through.
As thread after thread was drawn back, the light grew brighter and clearer.
Ji Xun’s vision sharpened, allowing him to see Huo Ranyin’s appearance with absolute clarity.
Huo Ranyin wasn’t looking at him.
His entire concentration was fixed on tightly securing the rope in his hands around Ji Xun’s body.
From Ji Xun’s lower angle, he could only see half of that slightly lowered face—he saw the full, broad forehead, the high, mountain-like bridge of the nose, and the lips pressed into a tight, straight line as if holding a razor blade.
Once the knot was firmly tied, Huo Ranyin immediately dragged him along. Tugging at the rope that bound the two of them together, he strained with every ounce of his remaining strength, heading straight toward the tender boat—the far end of the rope was fixed right onto it!
Ji Xun also raised his hands with great difficulty, joining in the effort.
Even though Huo Ranyin wasn’t looking at him.
Even though the oxygen mask covered his nose and mouth, making it impossible for Huo Ranyin to hear him even if he spoke.
Ji Xun still opened his mouth and uttered softly:
“Hi.”
It was as if he wanted to say everything.
It was as if he wanted to say nothing at all.
Just a simple greeting.
I’m here.
And you’re here too.
Then—BOOM—
Though separated by a layer of water.
Both Huo Ranyin and Ji Xun looked up at the exact same moment.
Through the thin layer of water, they saw two bright stars light up in the pitch-black sky amidst the torrential rain.
The brilliance of these stars pierced through the dark night, pierced through the sheet of rain, and pierced right into the eyes they raised to look up.
The sound drew nearer and nearer; the light grew larger and larger. The body once hidden in the sky’s darkness began exposing itself to the wind and rain.
A helicopter.
A helicopter flying straight toward them through the heavy rain.
The police helicopter had finally arrived.
A thick bolt of lightning suddenly ripped across the sky.
The silver-blue flash split the heavens and earth in an instant, illuminating the deck and illuminating Mr. Liu’s ghastly, corpse-like face.
Mr. Liu stared up at the sky, then glanced toward the central hall.
That was where the sniper was hiding.
The sniper had fired a cold shot from behind, and in the ensuing chaos, had taken advantage of the turmoil to hurl the heavy equipment overboard, allowing the hostage to slip completely out of their control.
Darkness. The cabin. A bitter struggle.
The police.
And the sea, along with the tender boat moored below.
Mr. Liu’s gaze finally landed on the tender boat sitting motionless on the water below.
His lips twitched slightly as he spoke to his remaining bodyguards: “…Jump down.”
“Sir?” Ah Bang blurted out, thinking he had misheard.
Yet in a brief span of time, Mr. Liu seemed to have regained his cold composure.
He gestured with his chin toward the tender boat below: “The police helicopter is overhead. Jumping down and driving the tender boat away is your only chance of survival now.”
The opportunity was right there for anyone to see.
Ah Bang said urgently: “Sir, let me carry you down on my back.”
However, Mr. Liu shook his head: “I am old and frail; I can’t move much anymore, and the rough waves on the sea are too much for me to handle. I’ll stay here. You guys run.”
“Sir, if you aren’t leaving…” Ah Bang declared without a moment’s hesitation, “then I’ll stay behind with you.”
However, fiercely loyal bodyguards like Ah Bang were exceptionally rare.
The remaining bodyguards exchanged glances. They quickly abandoned searching for Meng Fushan, who was hidden in the central hall. Raising their guns to guard against his sniper fire, they backed away step by step until they reached the ship’s railing, then swiftly vaulted over and jumped down.
At the final moment, faced with the sole path to survival, they were on extreme alert.
Meng Fushan never found another opening to strike.
When they had all dropped down, only two people remained on the deck:
Mr. Liu, and Ah Bang.
There was no need to hide anymore.
Meng Fushan walked out slowly from the central hall, stepping out from the darkness.
Mr. Liu looked at him and let out a chuckle: “To get onto this ship, you really calculated meticulously and paid a steep price. But you ought to know, allying with the police never ends well. You’re risking your life to save them now, but the moment they escape to safety, they’ll turn around and hand you a pair of silver handcuffs.”
Meng Fushan remained silent.
Mr. Liu stared at him coldly for a moment before continuing: “That police hostage I captured—though his mouth was full of nonsense, an excellent lie is built upon truth. Perhaps there was one true statement in his mouth: the organ trafficking ring resulted in the death of his relative, leaving his family destroyed and ruined.”
“However,” a cruel smile surfaced at the corners of Mr. Liu’s mouth, “though I am the source of this evil, I am not the most monstrous individual in this chain of sin. The most monstrous individuals are those who, driven by greed for survival, plundered the lives of others. So, what a pity… After plotting so hard to get onto this ship, did you really target the right person to avenge?”
Meng Fushan’s hand didn’t tremble in the slightest.
He said coldly: “You talk too much.”
Immediately after, ignoring Mr. Liu’s face that instantly turned ash-pale, Meng Fushan kept his weapon trained on Ah Bang as he walked over to the ship’s railing, taking a quick glance downward.
He caught sight of the bodyguards who had jumped down—they had seized the tender boat.
…Where were Ji Xun and Huo Ranyin?
Meng Fushan’s heart sank sharply. Mr. Liu could no longer draw an ounce of his attention.
The sound of the helicopter approaching rapidly signaled that backup and rescue were imminent, causing a surge of exhilaration in both Huo Ranyin and Ji Xun.
Yet before that exhilaration could even settle, several loud splashes echoed out as the bodyguards on deck, wearing life jackets, leapt down into the water one after another.
Both men realized in an instant that these men’s target was, without a doubt, the tender boat!
“Untie the rope first and get up there!” Ji Xun said urgently. “Hold the boat!”
Huo Ranyin did not listen to Ji Xun. Dragging Ji Xun along when they were only a step away from the boat, he pulled himself up with all his strength—if he could just drag Ji Xun up after him—
Before Huo Ranyin could steady himself and draw his weapon, the bodyguards who had jumped into the sea swam fiercely to the edge of the boat. Amidst the violent rocking of the tender boat, the terrified crew member tried to push them off, but to no avail.
They stormed onto the vessel. In the violent swaying, raw bodies proved more effective than guns; two bodyguards attacked from the left and right, throwing themselves forward to engage Huo Ranyin in hand-to-hand combat. As for the two still in the water, they aimed their guns at Huo Ranyin in threat.
Huo Ranyin struggled to hold his ground under the double assault. The rope linking him to Ji Xun, the severe depletion of his physical strength, and the freezing seawater all exerted a heavy toll on his energy and tactical execution.
Meanwhile, as the rocking vessel gradually stabilized, the bodyguards standing on board adapted to the movement. One of the two bodyguards in the rear fired a shot—not at Huo Ranyin, but straight at Ji Xun, who was still in the water!
Ji Xun ducked his head abruptly. The bullet whizzed past just above his scalp in a hair-raising miss.
The bodyguard pulled the trigger again, about to fire a second shot.
A second shot, fired at point-blank range with steady aim.
In a flash of lightning, Huo Ranyin broke free from the two bodyguards grappling with him. Abandoning the boat, he vaulted back down into the water. Seeing this, the bodyguards on board immediately drew their knives, severed the rope connecting them to the tender boat, and hauled their two companions out of the sea.
Afterward, amidst a final frenzy as the bodyguards emptied their remaining bullets into the sea, the tender boat roared to life, speeding away into the distance across the dark, tempestuous ocean.
Huo Ranyin and Ji Xun sank beneath the water.
With the rope anchored to the boat severed, they no longer possessed a lifeline at the surface. The heavy weight wrapped around Ji Xun began dragging them both down continuously; the meager buoyancy provided by Huo Ranyin’s life jacket was completely insufficient to resist the downward pull.
Huo Ranyin cursed under his breath, immediately turning around to undo the chains wrapped around Ji Xun.
A wave of deep regret swept through his heart:
If I had unlocked him right from the start instead of focusing solely on dragging him onto the boat first…
Yet no one could predict the future; at the time, pulling Ji Xun onto the boat as quickly as possible had indeed been the best choice.
Ji Xun was also trying to pick the lock. A lock mechanism that would normally be effortless to pick felt as daunting as a mountain to overcome when both hands were injured and submerged in seawater.
And there were six or seven such mountains left to cross.
They continued to sink.
The heavy weight dragged them continuously downward.
The sea grew deeper, the light dimmer.
Pressure began to build upon their bodies. Without any protective gear, the maximum safe diving depth for a human being is ten meters.
The iron chains and equipment bound to him would drag both him and Huo Ranyin down to a depth that no human body could withstand.
And then: death.
Ji Xun suddenly stopped working at the lock. He raised his head and looked at Huo Ranyin with meticulous care.
It was a bit of a pity—there wasn’t enough light. In the profound depths of the sea, he could only glimpse the faint, hidden contours of the other man’s perfect features.
He let go of the lock and reached forward with his left hand, which could still exert force.
His fingers brushed against the dagger Huo Ranyin had concealed in his sleeve.
Gripping the freezing dagger with four fingers, the intense chill made Ji Xun’s palm tremble slightly.
Yet he held the weapon firmly. His fear of knives seemed to shrink away into a hidden corner of his body at this moment as his blade slashed toward the section of rope binding the two of them together.
Huo Ranyin hadn’t expected Ji Xun to take the dagger.
Nor had he expected Ji Xun to be able to wield it.
Caught in shock, Huo Ranyin directly grabbed the section of rope Ji Xun was trying to sever, protecting it with his hand. Before the blade could be withdrawn, it left a shallow slash across the back of Huo Ranyin’s hand.
Fresh blood bloomed in the deep blue sea, striking and bright.
At that split second, Ji Xun recoiled noticeably, almost losing his grip on the dagger.
Yet in the end, the dagger flashed like a butterfly’s silver wing, once again firmly held between his fingertips. Seeing Huo Ranyin protecting that section of the rope, Ji Xun moved to cut another part—the rope was so long, there was bound to be a place he could sever.
I can’t block it all.
The rope is too long.
Fighting over the dagger underwater would waste their most precious physical strength and time.
Countless thoughts raced through Huo Ranyin’s mind.
“…Ji Xun!” He opened his mouth suddenly. No sound came out, but as long as Ji Xun was willing to look at his face, Ji Xun could read his lips. And Ji Xun would look at him—Ji Xun, who was determined to sever the rope and trade his own death for Huo Ranyin’s survival, would never give up this final chance to look at him.
“I know now… what happened that night. You wanted to subdue Ji Yu, but during the struggle, you accidentally injured her—”
Huo Ranyin truly understood now.
When they fought over the rope, when Ji Xun’s blade accidentally cut his hand, that instant of trembling finally explained all the faint, intuitive doubts he had held since hearing Ben’s story.
He understood the truth about Ji Yu—that night, when Ji Xun faced his biological sister who had murdered their parents, in a room without surveillance or witnesses, engulfed by nightfall and a sea of blood: he understood every piece of the truth.
Ji Xun indeed stared fixatedly at Huo Ranyin.
His gaze didn’t waver for a single moment, reading every single word Huo Ranyin formed with his lips.
An accidental injury.
Fresh blood.
In the silent, freezing deep sea, Huo Ranyin recalled the autopsy reports written on those few thin sheets of paper he had read in the past.
Ji Yu had only a single fatal wound on her body.
The bloodstain evidence at the crime scene had been tampered with.
…That night, they fought, and Ji Xun managed to wrest the knife from Ji Yu’s hand. But he accidentally injured her, and having done so, Ji Xun froze in complete shock.
Why?
It made no sense.
As a police officer and a trained male with physical capabilities far superior to a woman’s, Ji Xun had fought so many vicious criminals without ever making a misstep. Why had he made a mistake when it came to his own younger sister?
The mistake wasn’t fatal.
What proved fatal was Ji Xun’s paralyzed state following the mistake.
The mistake could be forgiven.
However, in the panic following that mistake, Ji Yu wrestled the knife back from Ji Xun’s hands. Along the wound her brother had accidentally caused, the sister slashed decisively inward… before collapsing into a pool of blood.
That was why there was only one fatal wound on Ji Yu’s body.
Ji Yu had used the subsequent wound to cover up the initial one.
Lying in that pool of blood, she had used her life to erase Ji Xun’s stain.
However, that still didn’t explain why there was no record in the case files of Ji Xun accidentally injuring his sister.
Whether as a relative or as a police officer, the Ji Xun he knew could never have concealed such a thing.
There was only one possibility: the dying Ji Yu had pleaded with Ji Xun, begging him never to reveal what happened that night… And because of this, the bloodstains at the scene were meticulously altered so that the police couldn’t find any suspicious points—something only a seasoned criminal detective like Ji Xun could have pulled off.
Thus, a pristine and blameless Ji Xun was left behind.
Yet for Ji Xun, as a brother, he had failed to save his sister; as a police officer, he had committed perjury.
He couldn’t face himself.
He had completely broken down.
No matter how many times Ji Xun replayed or recalculated that night, he could never find a single reason to forgive himself.
In that moment—
In that most critical moment of his life—
He was neither a qualified brother nor a qualified police officer.
He had messed up every single thing, every single choice.
His sister had used her death to protect him, using her dying breath to plead with him… but did that erase his guilt?
He had collapsed entirely.
From that day forth, his sister and the knife became a bone-deep curse, following Ji Xun like a phantom shadow.
Ji Xun lowered his eyes and smiled.
“…Fool.”
He seemed to be saying it to Huo Ranyin, yet was he not also saying it to himself?
Then, he silently mouthed to Huo Ranyin with a gentle sigh:
“I’ve picked up the knife again for your sake. Do you really delusionally think you can use this matter to disturb my mind and take my knife away?”
The blade moved nimbly and gracefully in Ji Xun’s hand, dancing effortlessly. Before Huo Ranyin could react, it severed the rope binding the two of them together.
Three years of psychological trauma had made Ji Xun freeze whenever he saw a knife.
Yet three years ago—and even earlier—
The knife had also been Ji Xun’s close friend: obedient, reliable, and deeply trusted.
The rope was severed, yet the two of them did not drift apart.
Huo Ranyin used his bleeding hand to firmly grab Ji Xun’s chain.
Even if the rope was cut, as long as he didn’t let go, the bond between them could never be broken.
The two looked at each other.
Huo Ranyin opened his mouth; still no sound came out, but the plea emanating from his eyes and body dissolved into the seawater, making even the ocean seem gloomy and sorrowful.
“Ji Xun, you said you’d be good. You promised me. I will never let go!”
“…”
Ji Xun closed his eyes, then opened them again.
Looking at Huo Ranyin’s face, his expression grew softer and softer.
The seawater was so cold it made his teeth chatter.
He could feel the meager strength remaining in his body fast approaching its limit.
His eyelids felt as heavy as lead, screaming every second for him to drop them and close his eyes.
Their descent had not stopped.
Yet Huo Ranyin’s efforts had not ceased for a single moment either.
Still wearing his life jacket, which provided a degree of buoyancy, he kicked his legs fiercely to slide upward, trying to slow their descent even if only by a fraction.
They had already passed the ship’s submerged hull, heading toward the deeper abyss.
Ji Xun’s moment of silence was not long, but in the ocean where every second was precious, it felt agonizingly protracted. In an instant, his trembling gaze settled on Huo Ranyin’s face.
A smile bloomed on Ji Xun’s lips like a gentle wave, swaying softly with the seawater.
He opened his mouth toward Huo Ranyin, silently tracing words that had quietly taken root in his heart without him realizing when:
“I ran toward you without a second thought; how could I ever abandon you again?”
Ji Xun raised his hand, gripping Huo Ranyin’s hand tightly as well as the iron chain they held between them. Then, he looked toward the massive, slowly spinning propeller.
The chain.
The propeller.
When the two items were brought together, Huo Ranyin instantly understood what Ji Xun meant.
The draft of this type of cruise ship was generally between 3 to 4 meters. They had oxygen tanks, so there was no immediate danger of suffocating in the sea. The police had arrived; as long as they secured the vessel, rescue operations would begin immediately.
The most pressing danger right now was sinking continuously alongside the heavy machinery. Once that descent reached a depth the human body couldn’t endure, it would prove fatal.
However, if they wrapped the machinery around the propeller, finding an anchor point in the sea to stabilize themselves, they might be dragged in by the slowly rotating blades—yet within the brief, safe window of depth this bought them, they could unlock the chains on their bodies and swim back up—
Ji Xun hadn’t lied.
He hadn’t severed the rope to abandon him.
He had come up with a plan.
A plan to save both of them.
All the past injustice, all the past heartbreak vanished amidst Ji Xun’s words and actions, dispersing into specks of light floating in the sea. They illuminated the path ahead for his actions, flowing back into his body and transforming into newfound strength.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Huo Ranyin released Ji Xun and grabbed the machinery along the chain. Pressing the machine’s button, the engine rumbled underwater, letting out section after section of chain. Amidst the rumbling sound that could cut out at any moment due to water damage, Huo Ranyin pulled at the chains, swimming with all his might toward the propeller—
The ship lacked power, but amidst the ocean waves, the propeller was still spinning slowly from the wash of the current. The suction generated by the massive propeller remained dangerous for anyone without protection.
Huo Ranyin tried his best to control his body. Having fought all the way until now, even the most abundant physical strength had drained away in the seawater and combat. He threw the heavy machine upward with everything he had, narrowly missing being dragged into the massive propeller blades alongside it.
In the deep sea, Huo Ranyin broke into a hot sweat.
The sweat turned cold in an instant—colder than ice.
He gasped a few times and swam back toward Ji Xun, only to see Ji Xun’s body pressed against the ship’s hull, frantically using the iron wire to pick the lock on his body.
The chain wrapped around the propeller grew shorter inch by inch.
Ji Xun’s fingers holding the wire were trembling continuously, failing to align properly with the keyhole time and time again.
Yet, one lock, two locks… these locks were gradually shedding from Ji Xun’s body as he was pulled closer toward the propeller.
Closer.
Ji Xun was getting closer and closer to that massive propeller.
Close enough that Huo Ranyin could feel the current churned up by the blades.
Close enough that Huo Ranyin could smell the metallic rust on those massive, scythe-like blades.
If Ji Xun were dragged in… if at the very end, the locks still weren’t opened…
The wire Huo Ranyin aimed at the lock on Ji Xun’s feet was trembling. Several times in a row, it slid past the keyhole without going in.
At that moment, a pair of blood-scarred hands reached out to hold Huo Ranyin’s.
Ji Xun focused intently, holding Huo Ranyin’s hand steady. Using the wire, he picked open the lock and cast the final chain wrapped around his body out into the sea.
With a loud metallic swish, white foam bubbled through the seawater.
The chain whizzed past Ji Xun’s face like a sea serpent, dragged right into the propeller!
Ji Xun offered Huo Ranyin one final smile—a smile that was confident and at ease.
It was as though this were the exact outcome he had envisioned all along.
Then, his eyes began to lose focus, and light vanished from his vision… as he slipped completely into darkness.
“Ji Xun!”
Huo Ranyin cried out with all his strength, but no sound came out—only bubbles.
Air turned into fragile bubbles, cascading from his mouth.
Huo Ranyin embraced the man from behind, kicked forcefully off the ship’s hull, and pushed upward to carry him toward the sea’s surface—
It was so close.
Just a few meters.
Just the final few meters leading to life!
On the deck, after confronting Ah Bang for a brief moment, Meng Fushan suddenly threw something toward Mr. Liu.
Startled, Ah Bang instinctively looked toward Mr. Liu in distraction: “Watch out!”
It was at this precise moment that Meng Fushan vaulted over the ship’s railing.
With a loud splash, Meng Fushan’s silhouette vanished from the deck.
The objects that landed on the ground weren’t concealed weapons—they were merely a few pens distributed on the ship.
Mr. Liu kicked them aside in disgust, walked over to the railing, and peered downward: “The tender boat has already driven away. It seems the bodyguards who jumped down earlier successfully hijacked the boat. In that case, the one who just jumped down must have gone to save the first two…”
The helicopter had flown near the ship against the wind and rain, only a minute or two away from positioning itself directly above.
Mr. Liu muttered to himself: “I am not a Chinese citizen, nor did I commit the murders on this ship. When the police arrive, they must rely on evidence. Finding every link in the chain will take time; they won’t necessarily be able to do anything to me right away…”
He spoke with certainty, yet his heart was far less composed than his face suggested. Forcing down the anxiety in his chest, he stared at the sea’s surface and made a subtle gesture toward Ah Bang.
“Before the helicopter lands, if they surface…”
Ah Bang didn’t hesitate; he nodded and crouched directly beside the ship’s railing.
Meanwhile, Mr. Liu held his umbrella and took a few steps back, retreating into the opening of the central hall.
It was still raining overhead.
Mr. Liu took a deep breath, suppressing all his anxiety into the depths of his heart. Then he raised his chin, still impeccably dressed, and gazed out into the sheet of rain.
Now, everything was drawing to a close.
Yet this closure hardly represented his end.
It was merely a new battlefield.
Forty years ago, penniless and on a ship filled with mountains of corpses and seas of blood without any backing, he had relied on himself to walk out alive. Today, he possessed vast wealth, countless friends, and innumerable channels.
The current difficulty was, at most, a minor setback for him.
…It was definitely just a minor setback.
He closed his umbrella and flicked the water droplets off his coat sleeve. Made of fine fabric, a gentle flick was all it took for the water droplets clinging to it to be swept away into the rain below his feet.
These young people causing trouble on the ship…
Whether it was the ghost they had captured earlier, or the killer who had charged out afterward to help the ghost escape—
Now, they were just like this water droplet: though it caused temporary annoyance, it would ultimately be brushed off underfoot, falling into the mire.
In the end, they would all be buried at the bottom of the sea.
Mr. Liu had already backed into the opening of the central hall.
Free from the wind and rain, the dry, comfortable air enveloped him, easing his heart—yet only for a split second before a soaking wet figure wrapped arms tightly around him from behind!
Who?
Who was it?
On this ship where only pig-stupid crew members and cowardly bosses remained, how could there still be someone moving around outside?!
Utterly shocked, Mr. Liu twisted his neck back with all his might, but could only see half of the face behind him.
That partially exposed face was half-swallowed by the darkness, its visible features contorted with excitement, joy, and liberation—distorted beyond human recognition.
In his line of sight, the other person raised a hand holding a lighter.
Click.
The flame ignited.
The sea surface was getting closer and closer.
Supporting Ji Xun, Huo Ranyin could even see the view above the sea through the thin layer of water.
The path to life was separated from them by only a thin film.
Yet his physical body and willpower, once his pride, were now completely drained sandglasses; Huo Ranyin shook desperately, hoping to shake down one or two more grains of sand to keep him going.
Almost there!
Almost…
He was just… a little tired…
As they approached the surface, they slid downward slightly… At that precise moment, a pair of hands supported them from behind, propelling them through the water with all their might toward the surface.
When the three of them broke through the water together onto the surface, Meng Fushan’s gaze pierced through the distance between the sea and the deck. He saw Ah Bang on the ship’s railing, and he saw the handgun held steadily in Ah Bang’s hands.
He even seemed to see Ah Bang’s finger gently pulling the trigger.
In that split second, Meng Fushan made a decision.
He tilted his body, using his own torso as a shield to block in front of Ji Xun and Huo Ranyin. It felt as though a heavy punch slammed into his back as a bullet penetrated straight through him, yet he didn’t pause—he didn’t even seem to feel the pain.
Expressionless as a mountain, he quickly guided Ji Xun and Huo Ranyin toward the rope thrown down by the women in the cabin.
It was also at this moment that a scorching flame turned half the sky red.
Looking toward the origin of the flames, they seemed to see two tightly embraced bodies burning furiously on the deck like two grand human torches, using all their flesh, blood, and fat to completely ignite and incinerate the evil on this ship—
And Ah Bang, who was guarding the deck’s edge, finally fled from the railing in sheer panic.
Huo Ranyin finally grabbed the rope.
Only then did Meng Fushan’s hands begin to lose their strength.
Huo Ranyin immediately turned back to grab him, his palm successfully gripping Meng Fushan’s arm.
Yet Meng Fushan didn’t exert any strength. In the seawater, Meng Fushan looked at him in silent stillness.
“Meng Fushan!” Huo Ranyin shouted out. “Grab on!”
There was no response.
Meng Fushan said nothing.
The ocean waves surged upward while Meng Fushan slid downward.
Alone, he slid into the pitch-black, lonely, abyss-like sea.
Huo Ranyin lunged forward, trying to grab Meng Fushan as he fell into the water, but his hand caught only empty air. The unconscious Ji Xun slid slightly from his pull, and the oxygen tank on his body slipped into the ocean.
The sea swallowed another soul.
Only the remaining blood—a blood whose color was barely distinguishable from the night sea—rippled in the water.
And when another wave tumbled over, that trace of red in the ocean, along with Meng Fushan, vanished without a trace.
They were hauled up into the cabin by the combined efforts of the women.
The moment Huo Ranyin settled Ji Xun down, he lunged toward the window, intending to dive back down to find Meng Fushan.
Yet at that moment, the rope ladder hanging from the helicopter drifted right in front of the cabin window.
Yuan Yue held onto the ladder and looked over, her expression grave and concerned.
“What’s the situation now?”
Huo Ranyin closed his eyes: “Hurry and arrange a rescue. Two critically injured—one in the cabin, one in the sea…”
Someone in the cabin gasped.
Delayed by a beat, Huo Ranyin looked over and saw that the cruise ship that had been stationed in the distance—the one that had dispatched the tender boat—had now sailed extremely close to them.
Someone seemed to be standing on the opposite deck, looking over.
That ship signaled a message using lights.
Huo Ranyin decoded it:
“Do you require medical assistance?”
“I have professional medical equipment and licensed medical staff on board.”
