Thank you @Renea for the Kofi.
Chapter 699: Heart
Rumble.
In the pitch-black darkness where one couldn’t even see their own fingers, a muffled, thunderous sound came from deep within the walls. The ground vibrated along with it, as if the entire world was being shaken and churned.
Su Cheng paused his steps.
Wen Ya turned her head, looking toward his position in the dark. Her eyes flickered slightly as she asked, “…Is it Dan Zhu?”
“Yes,” Su Cheng responded calmly.
As fellow proxy captains of the cruise ship, their respective powers waxed and waned in opposition—he could clearly sense that while Dan Zhu was being released and nourished, he was being weakened and suppressed.
After pausing for just a brief second, Su Cheng stepped forward again.
“Let’s go.”
“Remind me again,” Orange Candy skipped down two stairs at once, her feet making impatient tapping sounds, “Where exactly are we going?”
“The auction on negative floor seven,” No. 8 said, “—At least, that’s where your President originally wanted me to take him.”
“…What?” Wen Ya was astounded.
Orange Candy was equally shocked, her tone immediately turning sharp: “Wait, you’ve seen Pinocchio?”
“When? Where?? And then what??”
The questions smashed over like rapid fire, not giving anyone a chance to react.
“That was before the instance started.”
This time, the person answering was Su Cheng.
“We had a brief conversation once, but the situation was urgent, so we didn’t have time to exchange more details, and we lost contact after that.”
“However, one thing is certain,”
Su Cheng’s voice paused.
“The key to breaking this situation might be right there.”
“And we should be able to find him there, too.”
The narrow staff passage twisted and turned, extending downwards as if there was no end. The surroundings were thick with blackness, without a sliver of light. Walking here, the only thing they could follow was the footsteps of the person in front.
Suddenly, without warning, Su Cheng slammed on the brakes. He raised his arm, blocking the others behind him.
“What is it?”
During the few seconds he paused, the darkness was dead silent, as if some restless agitation was brewing.
“Don’t go forward.”
Su Cheng stared fixedly into the thick darkness ahead, his voice carrying an unprecedented gravity.
“We retreat.”
In the corridor.
Dan Zhu turned her head. Her smoke-like gaze lightly swept over the wall in front of her, a fleeting smile brushing across her lips.
The little bugs in the wall seemed to have sniffed out the danger and were frantically fleeing away from her position.
…What an annoying Prophet.
It was just like this before.
Not only did he cause her to be unable to move, but he was always running and hiding, like a slippery fish, making it impossible for her to find or catch him.
It was just that the tables had turned.
The situation had unwittingly reversed.
Dan Zhu casually raised her hand, her slender five fingers slowly pressing against the wall surface—the wall feared and trembled, but it didn’t easily submit to her as usual. Instead, under the influence of the other proxy captain, it put up a trivial resistance—however, this didn’t matter. The next second, red flower branches frantically spread out from her palm, biting into the wall as if alive, devouring everything they could touch until nothing remained.
The wall crashed down, turning into pinkish dust a moment before hitting the ground.
Faint light poured into the secret passage.
The outer part of the secret passage looked normal, just ordinary high walls and narrow stairs. But as the light flowed in, those areas that had never been illuminated were exposed.
The walls were damp and blood-red, the ground bizarrely knotted.
Like densely packed capillaries intertwining deep within the massive monster named “Cruise Ship.”
Footsteps of panicked escape came from deep within.
“Run faster, little mice.”
Dan Zhu giggled, strolling inside unhurriedly, as if playing a grand game of tag.
“Be careful not to get caught by me.”
Thud, thud, thud!
Heavy footsteps smashed against the floor, each one bringing tremors to the ground and walls.
The massively built man walked forward step by step with an expressionless face. Across his chest and abdomen lay a giant, starving mouth, its layers upon layers of sharp teeth icy and chilling.
Everyone’s gazes were tightly fixated on him. The air felt like a tightly wound invisible string, seemingly ready to snap the next second, pushing everything to a point of no return.
However, the next second, without warning…
Ye Lin vanished into thin air under everyone’s watchful eyes.
“?!”
Everyone was startled.
As they looked around, suddenly, Blond’s shrill scream rang in their ears, “Ji Guan—”
“On the left!!”
Before his voice could even fall, a cold, bloody wind swept from the left side.
Ji Guan turned his head in terror—reflected in his contracting pupils was Ye Lin’s terrifying figure, having appeared at some unknown moment—taking less than half a second, he had easily crossed the heavy corpse horde and the distance of dozens of meters, teleporting directly in front of him!
His body had already reflexively arched up, but his face could already feel that foul, bloody breath close at hand.
No, it was too late!
That numb, apathetic face looked down at Ji Guan from above. The mouth on his chest opened wide, biting down viciously.
“Clang!!”
Iron chains appearing out of thin air blocked in front of Ji Guan, forcibly getting wedged between the teeth that were about to clamp shut, emitting a scalp-tingling metallic clash.
It was Chen Mo.
“Retreat—”
He gritted his teeth, staring dead at Ye Lin not far away. The chains tightly gripped in his palms were taut and buzzing, his voice squeezing out through his teeth.
“Hurry!”
Ye Lin remained expressionless.
However, the glamorous skeletal corpse nestled on his shoulder turned its head, its pitch-black eye sockets staring at them, a heart-palpitating smile on its rotting lips.
Wait, something’s not right.
Wen Jianyan’s heart skipped a beat. A strong, ominous feeling struck him, piercing his spine like a steel needle. He took a step forward and shouted sternly: “Don’t use your talent!”
“Crack—crack—”
The dense, fine teeth continued to tighten. The chains let out bizarre sounds of being overwhelmed, and spiderweb-like cracks began to spread.
Chen Mo only felt a tickle in his throat. He blanked slightly, and before he could react, a mouthful of sweet, bloody liquid uncontrollably surged up from his throat, dripping down his chin.
On his skin, cracks similar to those on the chains’ surface began to emerge.
“Let go, quickly!!” Wen Jianyan urged anxiously.
“…No, he can’t let go by himself.”
Wu Zhu’s brows sank, his golden eyes flashing.
Immediately, the massive shadows beneath his feet surged forward with a roar, pressing over like an ocean. Ye Lin stumbled, retreating several steps.
The sharp teeth subconsciously loosened.
Seizing this fleeting opportunity, Ji Guan and Blond darted forward. One grabbed an arm, the other dragged a shoulder, snatching Chen Mo back.
Wen Jianyan supported him, asking urgently: “How do you feel?”
“…F-fine.” Chen Mo’s face was deathly pale. He stood unsteadily and raised a hand to wipe away the residual blood on his chin. The blood-red cracks on his skin were shocking to look at; no matter how you looked at it, he didn’t seem “fine.”
Wen Jianyan frowned tightly.
“It’s not his physical body that’s injured,” Wu Zhu’s gaze fixed on him for a moment before he said slowly, “I cannot heal it.”
Not far away, Ye Lin slowly regained his footing under the shadow’s suppression.
The surrounding corpse horde had all fully revived, constantly pacing outside the shadows, glaring like tigers watching their prey, waiting.
The pale arms of the corpse wrapped around his shoulders, murmuring something into his ear.
Wen Jianyan’s heart jumped.
He reached back and grabbed Wu Zhu’s arm: “Forget the rest, step back!”
The next second, the mouth on Ye Lin’s chest and abdomen opened wide, tearing to both sides in an incredibly grotesque manner, taking on an almost horrifying shape.
That mouth opened wide and brazenly bit into the pitch-black shadows suppressing him!
The mouth opened, closed, chewed, and swallowed.
Pollen emitting a rotting fragrance surged in from the rift Ye Lin had torn open, but before it could touch anyone, the gap was patched up again by the shadows—if the reaction had been even a second slower, the consequences would have been unimaginable.
“Damn it, this is a concept-level devour talent,” now, even Figaro couldn’t afford to hold back information, speaking at rapid speed. “Ye Lin can use everything he eats to feed back into himself—the more he eats, the higher his physical body’s strength becomes.”
Ye Lin’s body had become like this not due to the backlash of high-intensity talent usage, but rather… the unavoidable deformity that accompanies concentrating such extraordinary power, far beyond human endurance, into one body.
“If an ordinary person’s body strength is 5, and an average anchor’s is 10-30, then Ye Lin’s strength is between 50-80… And that was his data from back when he was still clearing instances. Now that so much time has passed, who knows what level he has fortified himself to!”
Figaro took a breath before continuing:
“You should have seen the situation just now. When he was suppressed by your guy a moment ago, if it were an ordinary person, they would have been crushed to pieces under that kind of power. But how many steps did he retreat?”
“Three? Five?”
Hearing Figaro’s words and recalling Ye Lin’s reaction to the impact just now, everyone’s hearts couldn’t help but sink.
At this moment, they truly felt what Ye Lin’s rank represented.
When the person ranked first was Nightmare’s proxy, then strictly speaking…
The one ranked second was the true head of Nightmare, having climbed up through pure strength and flesh.
“If you ask me, we’d better avoid his sharp edges and plan this long-term—”
“No.”
Wen Jianyan spoke quietly, interrupting him.
Strictly speaking, Figaro was right.
Even with Wu Zhu on their side, the disparity in strength was immense.
What they were facing now was not just Dan Zhu and Ye Lin, but the entire cruise ship and its rules, and even the more massive, unfathomable Nightmare hiding behind it.
But the problem was, they had no other choice.
This floor was already sealed off; where could they retreat to? If they retreated this time, what about the next? Pointless delay was meaningless; it would only make them more passive.
“…”
Figaro was stunned.
“What… what are you going to do?”
“Very simple.”
Wen Jianyan calmly raised his eyes, looking toward Ye Lin standing not far away. His eyes held a chilling look of calculation, as if appraising an object, a piece of meat, rather than a life, a living person.
“We kill him.”
“Right here, right now.”
Deep within the cruise ship.
A faint rotting scent floated in the air. The cabin doors on both sides were tightly shut. Under the weak lighting, the cold metal doors bore several messy, bloody streaks, as if someone had dragged themselves forward step by step, using a bloody hand to lean against the wall.
It was dead silent all around; only intermittent self-muttering could be heard.
“…What ‘go in when the ship sails to keep your life.'”
“Bah!”
Chen Cheng leaned against the wall with one hand, stopped his steps, and panted. He raised his head, his face weak and deathly pale, yet his eyes burned with a raging cold fire. He turned his head and spat out a mouthful of dark blood.
“Go to hell, Hugo.”
“Who the fuck would obediently listen to him…?!”
Chen Cheng stepped forward again, dragging his heavy body, shuffling forward step by step. He kept continuously muttering curses under his breath, but most of the words were mumbled and unclear, making it hard to make out the specific content.
Even if what Hugo said was true, that he really could save his life by entering the room after the ship sailed, Chen Cheng would absolutely never make such a choice—it was too cowardly, and he was too proud. Rather than being uselessly dominated by Nightmare and clinging onto life, he would rather bleed dry and die laughing.
Suddenly, Chen Cheng’s fingertips touched an empty space. He froze, stopped, and subconsciously turned his head to look beside him.
Along the entire path he had walked, every single cabin door had been tightly closed, but this one…
Was undefended and half-open.
Chen Cheng blinked, and through the semi-dried blood scabs caked on his eyelids, he saw the blurred two characters on the doorplate.
—Dan Zhu.
Abruptly, Chen Cheng straightened up, his eyes widening slightly.
He suddenly realized that the room in front of him was actually Dan Zhu’s room.
The last time he entered the [Lucky Cruise Ship] instance, he had come to this floor with Pinocchio and attempted to break open the cabin door from the outside to enter Dan Zhu’s room, but that time, they failed.
The door that couldn’t be opened no matter what methods were used last time, at this moment, was open in front of him without any defenses, requiring only a gentle push to walk inside.
An electric current seemed to shoot down Chen Cheng’s spine, bringing a shudder.
He raised his hand, his blood-stained fingertips touching the door.
“Creak—”
Accompanied by a soft sound, the heavy metal door slid open inwards. A thick, viscous floral scent hit his face, slamming into him like a physical object.
Chen Cheng held his breath and cursed under his breath.
He naturally had a sharp sense of smell, and it had become even more intense after entering the broadcast.
When he first saw Dan Zhu in the guild, everyone around him was captivated by her beauty, but he only wanted to stay as far away from this woman as possible.
No matter how magnificent Dan Zhu’s appearance was, Chen Cheng couldn’t focus on it, because he could smell the scent that always lingered around her…
A rotting, foul smell, an aura belonging exclusively to the undead.
And this scent had never been so rich.
Chen Cheng stood frozen in place for half a minute before finally managing to recover somewhat.
The light in the room was very dim, but it wasn’t completely pitch-black. One lamp by the bed, one by the table—two small lamps quietly released faint light, coating the entire room in an ominous light red hue.
Chen Cheng shook his head, forcing himself to step forward and walk into the room.
Perhaps because Dan Zhu herself had left, the blood-red flower branches that had originally covered the entire room were gone, leaving only frantic indentations on the walls—like a beach covered in wave patterns after the tide recedes.
Chen Cheng stopped in the exact center of the room and looked around.
The room was huge, and also very crowded.
In the middle of the room was an absurdly large bed. Heavy, complex layers of drapery hung down from all sides, obscuring the bed surface covered in thick silk and textiles.
A vanity table was located in the corner of the room, messily piled with unopened gifts of all sizes. A vase was squeezed in the middle, holding a few soon-to-be-withered flowers.
The wardrobe was wide open, with bright red dresses pouring out. Fabrics that clearly looked very expensive were treated carelessly; some draped over chair backs, but most were piled messily on the floor.
“…”
Chen Cheng frowned.
Although he didn’t know what he had expected to see in the first place, regardless, this was somewhat beyond his imagination.
He walked over to the table and began rummaging through haphazardly.
Although he had long known the extent to which Dan Zhu was sought after in Nightmare, this was Chen Cheng’s first time seeing this “admiration” materialized. The table and the floor were piled high with gifts and letters. Though not a single one was opened, Chen Cheng had more or less an impression of the names on them—some were from their guild, some from other guilds, basically all prominent figures on the leaderboards. The courtship letters and gifts they eagerly sent were carelessly discarded in the corner just like this, waiting to be replaced by the next batch of even more expensive and precious gifts, eventually to be ruthlessly thrown out of the room by the owner who received them.
Chen Cheng expended some effort to pull open the bottom-most drawer from beneath the mountain-like pile of gifts.
As he had imagined, these drawers, being pressed down so deeply, had clearly never been used. They were empty inside, with nothing in them.
No cosmetics.
No jewelry.
And certainly no human tissues or severed organs.
Every drawer was covered in dust, seemingly unopened for a very long time.
Until Chen Cheng pulled open the final, lowest drawer.
Deepest within the drawer, a lone photograph was carelessly tossed.
He reached out and picked up the photo.
In the photo were two people, a man and a woman. The man was tall, the woman was slender. Between their blurred features, a radiant charm could still faintly be seen. They were sitting by a table similar to a guild office, leaning intimately against each other, seeming to be laughing and talking. Around them, other walking silhouettes could vaguely be seen.
He flipped the photo over. On the back, a sentence was hastily scrawled in English:
“Even death can’t part us.”
Deep within the twisting, unfathomable stairs, this chase had reached its end.
The prey fleeing for their lives ahead had entered the hunter’s field of vision, and this time, there were no more new walls for them to hide behind.
The rich rotting fragrance filled the air, nearly suffocating them.
The footsteps followed like a shadow.
“Run, run, run, what’s the fucking use of running!!!” Finally, Orange Candy exploded. She slammed to a halt, the long tip of her blade dragging behind her, emitting a sharp screech of metal striking stone. “Stop, we fight!”
Her words were crude, but her reasoning wasn’t.
There was no way out running like this. Rather than being played with undignifiedly like prey, it was better to stop and fight a fair and square battle!
Even if they died, at least they would die cleanly and be defeated heroically.
Hearing the footsteps stop ahead, Dan Zhu seemed to realize something. The smile on her lips deepened, and she was just preparing to comply with the other’s request and end this chase that was already making her feel somewhat fatigued—but the next second, Dan Zhu’s footsteps abruptly stopped.
“……………………”
She stood in place, turned her head, and looked behind her, as if looking through the air, staring at some existence no one else could see.
For the first time, that demonic, charming face lost its effortless smile.
She stared coldly behind her, her expression gloomy.
A few steps away.
In the darkness, Orange Candy and the others stood in strict formation, ready for battle. However, the imagined danger didn’t arrive as expected, and even the fragrance in the air seemed to show signs of dissipating.
What’s going on?
The few of them looked at each other in astonishment, exchanging a bewildered glance.
At this exact moment, Su Cheng seemed to realize something.
He looked down. A star-and-moon Tarot card with a pitch-black, chaotic face once again floated above his fingertips.
“Wait…” Wen Ya noticed his movement and couldn’t help but ask, “Haven’t you pulled out this card many times?”
Su Cheng nodded.
“What card is it?”
Su Cheng lowered his eyes, his gaze landing upon the eerie card face. His fingertips traced over those frantic lines, eventually coming to a halt right in the center.
Wen Ya noticed that deep within that endless chaos and agitation, there actually hid a crude, crooked, hasty, and simple heart.
Su Cheng’s lips moved, and he said slowly:
“The Lovers.”
