WTNL Chapter 597

Lucky Cruise Ship
Chapter 597: New Auction

Carl Bell?!

One of the three great managers of the Lucky Cruise Ship and the actual controller of the auction?

Upon hearing this, everyone was startled.

Even though they had guessed that Figaro’s “mission” this time could not possibly be as relaxed as his tone suggested, they still couldn’t help but suck in a breath of cold air when they heard the specific content of the task.

“No wonder,” Wen Jianyan glanced at him with a faint smile. “After all, you have a good relationship with him.”

Before the Lucky Cruise Ship became a instance instance, Figaro had already established a long-term and positive relationship with the auction. It was precisely because of this connection that Wen Jianyan had previously been able to acquire the Dead Sea Scrolls by allowing himself to be “auctioned.”

Presumably, it was for the same reason that Figaro was hired again.

“Oh, isn’t that the truth,” Figaro bowed slightly, his fox-like eyes curving as he made no attempt to hide his nature as an unscrupulous merchant. “That is why my asking price this time is higher than ever before.”

Wen Jianyan: “…”

“So,” Chen Cheng crossed his arms and frowned, “how did you get completely wiped out?”

“Don’t be in such a rush,” Figaro shook his head with a smile, acting tight-lipped. “We can discuss the details after Mr. Pinocchio agrees to cooperate.”

“Cooperate? Fine,” Wen Jianyan said slowly.

Figaro beamed with joy. “That’s wonderf—”

But before he could finish, he was interrupted. “However, your promises don’t seem to count for much.”

After all, Figaro had a history of going back on his word and had demonstrated the ability to break Nightmare Contracts. Who knew if he would do it again?

“Sigh, this is why one must have integrity in business,” Figaro made a distressed face, clearly having anticipated this reaction. “Otherwise, it’s very easy to create a crisis of trust.”

In the “Integrity First” live room chat:

[Excuse me? You have the nerve to say that?]

“However,” Figaro touched the brim of his hat and sighed, “this is indeed a bed of my own making.”

He took out a strangely shaped, rusty lantern from his backpack and handed it to Wen Jianyan, a look of great pain on his face.

Wen Jianyan lowered his eyes to glance at it, and his heart gave a slight jolt.

He recognized this item.

[Dying Lamp], an SS-rank offensive item.

It had been publicized alongside the [Saint’s Finger] the day before the auction began and was auctioned on the same day—he hadn’t realized that Figaro was the one who won it.

“A deposit. Although not much, it should at least express my sincerity,” Figaro added. “Naturally, aside from this, we will still sign a contract. Breaking a Nightmare Contract is very difficult and the price is high; even I cannot do it twice within a single instance.”

Wen Jianyan looked at him steadily for a few moments, deep in thought.

“Agreed.”

However, before Figaro could smile, he heard the other party continue: “But, our contract needs a few more restrictions.”

Figaro: “…Like what?”

“I am only responsible for helping Qi Qian escape, giving you a chance to restore your ‘personal reputation,’ but,” Wen Jianyan emphasized the words ‘personal reputation’, “I will not help you complete your commission. If you want to kill Carl Bell, please do it yourself.”

Figaro studied him intently, weighing the options, seemingly considering whether the conditions were reasonable.

Finally, he sighed. “Sigh, alright—you know what? You might be more suited to be a merchant than I am.”

And just like that, a temporary cooperation was officially established.

Before they could discuss further details, the auction hall doors, which had been tightly shut, suddenly slammed open with a “bang.” The sudden noise made everyone jump, and an invisible, gloomy coldness drifted out from within.

“Turn around.” Figaro’s tone changed abruptly. His usual flamboyant and flowery tone vanished completely, replaced by a low, solemn voice. “Don’t look!”

Everyone present was a veteran anchor who had survived many instances. Without needing to think, their bodies reacted reflexively.

Wen Jianyan stared at the wall inches from his face, tracing the fine textures with his gaze. He could hear heavy footsteps approaching step by step, and an invisible chill spread, eroding his back.

His body, weak from blood loss, reacted physiologically to the danger; cold sweat poured from his forehead, and his lowered eyelashes trembled slightly.

Finally, the footsteps faded away, and the chill dissipated.

“It’s over,” Figaro’s voice returned to normal.

Everyone slowly turned around. Everything behind them had returned to its original state—the doors were tightly closed, and the hall was empty.

Wen Jianyan leaned against the wall, fished out a few painkillers produced by the Nightmare system, and stuffed them into his mouth.

The wound caused by Chen Cheng’s Tang Sword was ultimately physical damage. While it couldn’t be healed, at least he didn’t need special items to reduce the pain’s impact.

Chen Cheng: “…What the hell was that?”

“Not sure,” Figaro shrugged, speaking lightly.

After swallowing the painkillers, Wen Jianyan’s complexion improved slightly.

He looked at Figaro. His already light-colored irises revealed a solid coldness, and his voice, brief due to his weakness, showed a sharpness rare for him:

“You’d better explain clearly.”

Figaro sighed. “Alright…”

“Basically, our operation went smoothly at the start. However, due to the lack of a psychic medium, we lacked a grasp of the overall situation. Although Vice President Qi and his team successfully inflicted heavy damage on Carl Bell, they ultimately failed to kill him completely. That gave him an opening—”

Wen Jianyan and his group had seen long ago how hard it was to kill these NPCs. As an entity on the same level as Mesweis, Carl Bell would only be harder to kill than the NPCs they had encountered before.

“…Unexpectedly, Carl Bell’s strength is probably far greater than what he previously displayed.” Figaro’s voice seemed to carry a hint of regret. “At least from this perspective, my quote was indeed a bit too low.”

“It is precisely because Carl Bell was heavily wounded that this floor has become what it is now. You should have sensed it; although the exterior hasn’t changed, the interior has completely alienated. Those ‘things’ just now are part of the alienation. Vice President Qi and the others fell into their hands,” Figaro said. “I only know that we cannot make eye contact with them. But as for what they are, where they come from, or what their purpose is, I do not know…”

Beside them, Chen Cheng crossed his arms and sneered, “Because you ran away the moment things looked bad.”

Figaro: “Hey, that’s too harsh. It’s called a strategic retreat—”

Wen Jianyan: “Stick to the point, cut the crap.”

Figaro complied readily and pulled the topic back. “Although my understanding of the situation inside is limited, my privileges as a ‘Liaison’ remain. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have escaped so easily.”

Saying this, he winked at Wen Jianyan. “I assume you already know a bit about this?”

Wen Jianyan looked thoughtful.

It seemed this so-called “Liaison” status was a privilege granted by the agate stone.

“However, before we start,” Figaro swept a scrutinizing gaze over Wen Jianyan, lingering for a few seconds on the blood-soaked gauze around his neck—even without direct observation, he could tell the wound underneath was unusual. “I want to know, is your current condition really okay?”

Wen Jianyan tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Don’t worry, I won’t die yet.”

Figaro: “Good, good, then I won’t pry.”

“As for how to get in… the previous path is no longer viable.”

Figaro glanced regretfully at the closed main doors. Even from meters away, the gloomy aura emanating from the entrance felt substantial, chilling them to the bone. It felt as if stepping any closer would drain all warmth from their bodies.

“But… it’s not like there aren’t other ways.”

Led by Figaro, the group moved forward along the hall and stopped shortly after.

On the deep, long corridor hung portraits with blurred faces and gloomy auras. They sat motionless and silent within their frames, seemingly watching the group soundlessly.

“We can enter from here,” Figaro said.

Wen Jianyan suppressed the shock in his heart. He looked up, gazing deeply at the portraits, his searching eyes lingering on the images. He asked slowly, “Do you… do you know who is painted in these?”

Figaro followed Wen Jianyan’s gaze and raised his eyebrows in surprise. “What?”

“Or rather, what are their identities?”

“You’ve really asked about an area I don’t understand,” Figaro shook his head apologetically. “However, I can tell you that they have been here since the first time I entered the Lucky Cruise Ship.”

“…”

Wen Jianyan stared at the portraits not far away until Figaro’s voice brought his thoughts back to reality.

“Before we enter, do you have any other questions?”

Wen Jianyan snapped back. “No.”

Seeing that Wen Jianyan had no objections, Figaro stepped forward. He did something unknown, and a thumb ring slowly appeared on his previously bare thumb. The blood-red agate stone on it sparkled under the light—it seemed he had indeed learned his lesson from the time Wen Jianyan easily swiped his stuff. Figaro placed his hand on the canvas surface. The next second, strange ripples appeared on the previously smooth canvas, and right in front of everyone, the painting easily transformed into…

A mirror surface.

Seeing such a familiar scene, Chen Mo (Chen Cheng) sucked in a cold breath.

“This is…”

Memories were awakened. The memories from the [Xingwang Hotel] instance surged like a tide.

The dark, rainy, damp Ghost Street; the framing shop deep within the street; and the corridor hung full of strange oil paintings.

He remembered clearly that when they walked deep enough, the oil paintings hanging in the corridor turned into mirrors.

They turned into [Doors].

“Mn.” Wen Jianyan responded briefly, his eyes cold and silent.

His initial guess was confirmed.

These oil paintings hanging on the negative seventh floor of the Lucky Cruise Ship were indeed from the same source as the oil paintings in the corridor of that framing shop.

What about the figures inside?

Were they “ghosts” forced into existence in the town, or “humans” attempting to survive?

“Please hold each other’s hands.” Figaro extended his hand to Wen Jianyan, explaining politely. “Otherwise, we might not be able to enter together.”

And so, holding hands one after another, the group stepped into the mirror in succession.

The mirror surface gradually calmed, turning back into the appearance of an oil painting.

Everyone’s vision suddenly went black.

When the light returned, everything before them had changed drastically.

“This is…”

Looking at the scene before him, Blond was stunned, almost unable to believe his eyes.

“—The auction?” Wen Ya whispered, completely baffled.

That’s right. Completely different from the ghost-filled shadows they had imagined outside, what appeared before them was actually… a fully packed auction.

Because an invitation was required to go to the negative seventh floor, even the session with the highest attendance (caused by the auctioning of Wen Jianyan) hadn’t filled all the seats below. But the current auction seemed to have gone to the other extreme. Looking out from the corner where they stood, there was almost not a single empty seat below the stage.

Yet, despite every seat being filled, it was frighteningly quiet. One could hear a pin drop.

At this moment, they were standing in a dark corner on the first floor. Crimson curtains hung down from the second floor, shielding them from view.

Just then, a familiar voice came from the auction stage ahead—it was Carl Bell’s voice!

However, unlike in their memories, the voice was now gloomy and high-pitched. There seemed to be some disturbing, terrible “clucking” sound hidden in his throat, making some of his pronunciation strangely blurred.

“… The fifth auction item has been sold. Next is the sixth auction item.”

Through the half-opened curtain, Wen Jianyan looked toward the stage.

Standing on the stage was a pitch-black shadow. It had no facial features, only a massive, empty hole in the center of its face. Carl Bell’s voice was coming from that hole:

“A pair of perfect ■■, high-quality, strong, agile. Starting price, 10 ■■!”

Blond suddenly grabbed Wen Jianyan’s arm with such force that it was almost painful.

His lips moved, opening and closing. A few seconds later, he emitted a weak voice:

“…A pair of feet.”

Displayed in the center of the auction stage was a pair of severed feet. The cross-sections were smooth; one could see the pale white bone and blood-red tendons that were still pulsating. Blood spilled out, dripping onto the high platform.

“Wait, are the things being auctioned Qi Qian and the others—” Wen Ya was horrified.

“Sorry, I can’t be sure either,” Figaro said. “I only know that Vice President Qi and the others are still alive. But as for what state they are alive in, and whether their bodies are complete… I don’t know.”

“…” Suddenly, no one spoke.

Below, in the deadly silent auction seating, people began to raise their paddles one after another.

Even during the bidding, the place remained silent—a silence that made one’s hair stand on end.

“If Qi Qian and the others are the auction items, then it’s not entirely a bad thing,” Wen Jianyan lowered his voice and said slowly. “After all, I know where the backstage is.”

Wen Jianyan had been an auction item before. He knew how the items were transported to the stage. Although the cage he was in had been covered with a cloth during the process, he could still roughly guess his location based on the changes in light and terrain.

“Also, you’d better not look around in here,” Wen Jianyan turned to look at Blond. “It’s best to close your eyes and let Wen Ya lead you.”

According to the information Figaro gave, making eye contact here was obviously very dangerous. Blond had the best eyesight and could see the furthest, so naturally, he was the most likely to encounter danger.

Wen Jianyan looked at Maqi: “Come to the front and walk with me.”

His methodical approach was like a shot of adrenaline, forcefully taking control of the entire situation.

In this way, the group hid in the darkness at the edge of the venue, controlling their gazes and not looking into the distance. With Wen Jianyan leading the way and Maqi keeping watch, they moved forward slowly and cautiously.

Wen Jianyan kept his eyes half-lowered, his breathing disordered from weakness. Borrowing the faint light, he fumbled along the path he had once traveled. The group moved away from the packed auction area and gradually stepped into the silent darkness.

Suddenly, he stopped in front of a wall and whispered:

“It’s here.”

“I’ll try.” Figaro stepped forward, placing his hand on the wall. The red agate stone on his hand flashed with a bewitching light.

The next second, with a soft “click,” a door appeared on the previously smooth wall, much like in the racecourse on the negative fourth floor. Only this time, Kong Wei didn’t need to break it open violently; it simply appeared easily in front of them.

This was naturally the privilege of the Liaison.

Passing through another narrow corridor that seemed endless, the space suddenly opened up.

A gloomy, deadly, silent, pitch-black warehouse appeared before everyone.

Countless cages of various sizes and heights were placed inside the warehouse, stretching as far as the eye could see, making one suspect they were in a grotesque maze.

An ominous scent of blood permeated the air.

“Open your eyes.” Wen Jianyan nudged Blond. “Look around.”

Blond slowly opened his eyes. In the dim light, the whites of his eyes appeared bloodshot red, and his dark pupils floated in the center, giving off an inexplicably chilling vibe.

He looked around, his gaze fixing on a corner of the warehouse, and said with certainty:

“Over there.”

Guided by Blond, the group ran hurriedly in that direction.

Soon, several cages covered by red cloths came into view.

Maqi closed her eyes to sense for a few seconds. She opened them and whispered:

“No problem.”

Chen Cheng stepped forward, raised his hand to grab a corner of the red cloth, and threw his arm up to yank it off with a “swish”—upon seeing the scene under the red cloth, everyone couldn’t help but gasp.

Could this… still be called a “human”?

Everything below the knees had been completely severed. The head was tilted askew. In the center of the face, where the features should have been, was a massive black hole, empty inside. The blood below had not yet coagulated and seemed to be emitting steam.

Based on the clothing, Wen Jianyan recognized that this was indeed a member of Dark Fire.

A wave of chills hit them instantly.

…The ones being auctioned on stage were indeed members of Qi Qian’s team.

While the group was rendered speechless, a rustling sound suddenly came from not far behind them. Everyone was startled, turning their heads sharply as their bodies tensed up.

Chen Cheng signaled for the others to stay put. He walked forward, slowly raising his hand to pinch a corner of the red cloth—

Swish!

The moment the red cloth was lifted, a brilliant golden light pierced the darkness. Inside the iron bars, a sharp arrow of light pointed straight at the person who revealed the cage, reflected in the intensely hostile pupils of the archer.

Wen Jianyan was stunned:

“…An Xin?”

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