Chapter 701: Seven
The rotting floral scent, mixed with the rusty smell of blood, steamed and spiraled together down the endless corridor.
The blood-soaked ground had been torn to pieces. Countless pale, twisted corpses were piled up layer upon layer; some had fallen into the crevices, while others collapsed on the ground. Unnumbered red flowers grew from within them, using their bodies as nourishment, blooming madly and robustly.
Deep within the fissures on the floor, vines of the exact same crimson color could vaguely be seen growing wildly.
The massive man lay collapsed at the end of the hall. Dark, thick blood gurgled continuously outward from the gaping hole in his chest. If it weren’t for the occasional rise and fall of his shoulders, one would almost suspect he was already dead. He lay motionless on the ground, making no reaction whatsoever to Dan Zhu’s previous dialogue—whether he simply didn’t care, or no longer had the capacity to care, was unknown.
Not far away, Hugo had stopped speaking.
Threads of gray smoke drifted and swirled, obscuring his face. He stood there in silent stillness, like a gray stone statue.
And in this tomb-like, chilling corridor, only the figure in the very center remained vividly alluring. As if she had gorged herself on blood, she was blindingly bizarre, sending shivers down the spine.
Dan Zhu smiled, carelessly withdrawing her gaze from Hugo as if she had already lost interest in him.
She raised her eyes, her gaze landing once more on the darkness not far away.
“Rested enough?”
She strolled forward unhurriedly, seemingly having already cast aside the frustration of her previous setback. Her voice carried a smile, spitting out an intimate yet fatal threat, like a lover’s murmur by the pillow.
“Then, we can continue playing, right?”
Deep within the sanctuary of the shadows.
“…Fuck.”
Ji Guan lowered his eyes, cursing through gritted teeth as he roughly wiped the blood surging from the corner of Chen Mo’s mouth with his sleeve.
However, that blood kept surging out continuously, dripping down endlessly, as if it could never be wiped clean.
“Cough, cough—” Chen Mo shook his head. “Stop wiping. I… I’m fine.”
Bai Xue stood a few steps away, his pitch-black eyes lowered, staring blankly at the scene, looking somewhat at a loss.
Right at this moment, Wen Jianyan took large strides over from the back.
His expression was grave as he asked nervously, “How is he?”
“Rest assured,” Chen Mo lifted his eyelids with some difficulty. He forced out a rather ugly smile, his voice weak and intermittent. “Before I get my overtime pay from you, I won’t be dying anytime soon.”
No matter how nonchalant his attitude appeared, everyone knew as clearly as a mirror in their hearts… Chen Mo’s current condition was anything but optimistic.
Even though the attack was over, the cracks on his body were still continuously deepening and multiplying—this was damage inflicted directly upon a person’s soul. It was irreversible and incurable.
They were powerless to do anything about it.
Wu Zhu lowered his eyes. His golden eyes were like a calm, rippleless mirror, reflecting Chen Mo’s dying face on the ground. His tone remained flat:
“Do you need my help?”
“I can let him die without any pain.”
“…”
Ji Guan slowly raised his head. His eye sockets were completely red, and a roaring flame burned deep within his eyes. He stared dead at Wu Zhu, the tiny bit of goodwill he had barely managed to cultivate seemingly vanishing into thin air once again. He ground his teeth: “What did you say?!”
Yet Wu Zhu didn’t feel there was anything wrong with his proposal:
“I said I can—”
Wen Jianyan interrupted him: “Say less.”
Wu Zhu shut his mouth.
“He means no harm,” Wen Jianyan said. “When I was about to die before, he was even worse than this.”
After all, it was hard to expect a non-human to truly possess empathy—or rather, the fact that he was willing to offer such a proposal was, in itself, a kind of concession.
Cruel and rational, but undeniably efficient.
However, this explanation didn’t seem to have any positive effect on Ji Guan.
He took a deep breath, casting a pained look at Wen Jianyan. Although he ultimately didn’t say anything more, the gaze he subsequently swept toward Wu Zhu grew even more hostile. Evidently, he firmly believed in his heart that Wen Jianyan had suffered greatly trailing alongside this guy.
“President…” Blond suddenly spoke up. While the others were tending to Chen Mo’s injuries, he had been constantly keeping an eye on Dan Zhu’s situation. His voice was taut, almost pitching out of tune. “Dan Zhu is walking over here. It looks, it looks like she’s about to launch another attack—!”
“We can’t go on like this.”
Figaro stood to the side, his brows furrowed in deep worry.
“Just dealing with one Dan Zhu is already difficult enough for us, and now there’s Hugo on top of it…”
There were similarities in the talents of these two; both could attack and defend, both could be as fine and flexible as silk, or as rigid and strong as iron. What was worse was that they both had the augmentation and blessing of Nightmare—one was practically the de facto captain of the cruise ship, with the entire instance acting as her nourishment and backing, while the other was the infamous current Executioner, vastly experienced and terrifyingly powerful. Once those two cooperated, the threat they posed wouldn’t be as simple as one plus one equals two.
To describe what they were facing right now as a “desperate situation” might even be putting it mildly.
Figaro looked at Wen Jianyan with his last sliver of hope:
“Pinocchio, think of something.”
“…”
Wen Jianyan neither looked up nor answered. His brows were tightly knit, and he was repeatedly twisting and rubbing the ring at the base of his finger, seemingly lost in deep thought.
Suddenly, his movements paused, and he jerked his head up.
Figaro was startled by his sudden movement and couldn’t help taking a half-step back: “What is it…!”
Wen Jianyan abruptly stood up, looking at Ji Guan, speaking rapidly: “I’m leaving Chen Mo in your care from here on out, alright?”
Ji Guan was stunned at first, but quickly snapped out of it, nodding heavily:
“Of course.”
Wen Jianyan turned his head to Blond: “Where is Dan Zhu? Is she far from us?”
Blond: “About twenty meters or so…”
Wen Jianyan nodded: “Good, keep staring at her. I’m leaving the task of standing guard to you.”
Figaro: “Wait…”
After instructing Blond, Wen Jianyan then looked toward Bai Xue: “Can you still use your talent?”
Bai Xue nodded silently.
Figaro: “Hey…”
“Very good.” Wen Jianyan withdrew his gaze.
This time, his eyes finally landed on Figaro.
Feeling his gaze, Figaro perked up, but before he could truly get his spirits high, he heard Wen Jianyan say: “In a moment, you’ll be responsible for protecting Bai Xue and Blond. Can you do that?”
Now Figaro was truly confused: “I mean, I can… but are you sure?”
He hinted vaguely: “We don’t have much combat power on our side.”
Being a non-human, Wu Zhu was naturally the biggest threat, but they knew this, and the enemy knew this too. So, once the battle started, Dan Zhu’s primary focus would definitely be him, and since her talent was so pervasive, it meant Wu Zhu would not only face the most deliberate targeting, but he’d also have to divert some of his attention to protect the others. Under these premises, Figaro and Ji Guan were the only two active pieces left on the board.
But now, both of them were assigned defensive tasks, not offensive ones…
Figaro furrowed his brows tightly, studying Wen Jianyan, seemingly trying to figure out what exactly he was thinking.
“I know.”
Wen Jianyan raised his eyes, his voice as calm as his expression.
“But it’s fine. We’re not going to fight like we did just now anymore.”
Figaro was stunned.
Frankly speaking, he obviously didn’t want to face monsters on the level of Dan Zhu, Hugo, and Ye Lin… but the problem was, that wasn’t up to them to decide, was it?
Yet Wen Jianyan seemed to have no intention of explaining further.
He looked at Wu Zhu: “The attack from just now—how long can you maintain it?”
Wu Zhu gazed at him, a profound smile flashing deep within his golden eyes. His lips parted slightly, revealing a flash of stark white teeth: “How long do you need?”
Dan Zhu walked forward casually, her blood-red skirt swaying with her steps.
Although her attack on that Vice President hadn’t fully succeeded, based on her understanding of Ye Lin and her own power, even if that guy didn’t die, he would lose all combat capability.
She had to admit, she was quite curious now—what was the other side planning to do next?
Split their precious energy to drag a burden along and continue fighting her?
Or ruthlessly cut their losses in time?
Suddenly, at the end of the corridor ahead, a darkness so thick it felt tangible abruptly expanded, surging toward her with an unstoppable momentum, like a tidal wave whipped up by a hurricane!
—A counterattack?
Dan Zhu paused for a moment, then began to giggle with keen interest.
Interesting…
The next second, the floor and walls vibrated violently in unison. Accompanied by a chilling rumble, countless massive vines, like the tentacles of a monster, burst forth. Parasitizing the cruise ship, they had practically merged with the instance itself, and now they surged forward furiously!
The massive shadow yielded not a single inch.
Rolling darkness as thick as the night, bottomless and deep, fought against the hideous crimson for space to exist.
[Holy shit…]
[What a massive scene, the effects are insane!]
[True, but the scale is a bit too big, I literally can’t see anything clearly…]
“…”
Dan Zhu watched the scene ahead, her brows furrowing slightly involuntarily.
For some reason, she felt something wasn’t quite right—suddenly, a flash of insight crossed her mind. Dan Zhu froze, her expression turning fiercely vicious.
With a hook of her fingertip, a vine that had been growing beneath Ye Lin, feeding off the blood seeping from his chest, silently slithered over. Then, under the cover and coordination of the other branches, it smoothly reached the very center of the shadow.
A red flower bloomed wide, revealing a mouthful of snow-white, razor-sharp teeth, and bit down hard!
Bolstered by the power of Ye Lin’s talent, the previously indestructible black curtain was forcibly ripped open.
Deep within the pitch-black nest of shadows, a sturdy forearm with pale skin and winding, bizarre tattoos was shockingly visible. It was firmly wrapped around the youth’s slender waist. Veins bulged on the back of the broad, long hand, unclear whether it was enduring pain or suppressing tyrannical rage.
A pair of bright golden eyes lifted, flashing deep within the swirling vortex of darkness.
The youth trapped in that embrace seemed to notice the movement behind him. He tilted his head slightly, meeting her gaze from afar, a thin line of blood trickling down his trembling neck.
In the darkness all around them, besides the two of them, there was not a single other soul.
—So their desperate counterattack was a fake; a diversionary tactic was the reality!
“…”
Dan Zhu’s expression instantly darkened.
She laughed out of extreme anger: “Darling… trying to run away from me isn’t going to be that easy.”
Almost the instant her voice fell, the entire cruise ship began to tremble beneath their feet, echoing with the sound of muffled thunder.
Crack, crack, crack—
From behind came the sound of floorboards shattering and being ripped up.
“Don’t look back, keep moving forward!”
Figaro raised his arm, his crescent blade sweeping past to sever several vines chasing at their heels, shouting a warning.
They didn’t need his reminder; the others had no intention of stopping either.
Ji Guan’s jaw muscles bulged, his eyes locked dead ahead. Chen Mo slumped over his shoulder, his lifeless arms swaying with Ji Guan’s strides, the wind whistling past their ears.
There was only one thought in their minds—
Run!
“…”
Wen Jianyan’s expression was grave.
Although he knew he couldn’t keep the enemy in the dark for too long, this timeframe was still a bit too short.
More importantly, once the other party realized his intentions, she wouldn’t focus all her attention on him and Wu Zhu like before; she would throw everything into hunting down the others!
The walls beside them bulged and rolled, as if vines were rapidly tunneling underneath, bypassing the dark barrier created by Wu Zhu to give chase.
Now that Dan Zhu was aware, the entire cruise ship would coordinate with the captain’s actions—walls twisting, corridors rerouting. Even though he had instructed Bai Xue to use his talent to ensure their path wasn’t blocked, Bai Xue couldn’t keep doing that indefinitely.
No, I must—
Swish.
A faint sound of something slicing through the air rang out.
“…” Dan Zhu paused. She slowly raised her hand, her pristine fingertip brushing against her cheekbone.
A drop of semi-coagulated, sticky blood clung to the pad of her finger.
On her cheek, a cut sluggishly parted, though no more blood flowed from it.
Dan Zhu’s eyes shifted, looking not far away.
Hugo stood a few steps away, the crimson tip of the cigarette pinched between his fingers glowing and dimming. The smoke that had just been formless, scattered like fog, had at some point gathered again, twisting upward like a thread.
He looked over calmly and impartially.
“What,” Dan Zhu slowly curled the corners of her lips, revealing a sinister smile, “Have you made up your mind?”
Hugo didn’t answer. He simply remained expressionless, walking forward step by step.
Behind him, the gray-white smoke took shape.
The arc of Dan Zhu’s smile widened, bordering on malicious:
“What it means for an Executioner to defy Nightmare’s will, and what price must be paid… surely you are clear on that?”
“…………”
Hugo still didn’t say a word.
Finally, he stood dead center in the corridor, blocking Dan Zhu’s path.
Hugo turned his head, looking from afar at Wen Jianyan through the gradually recovering barrier of darkness.
“Go.”
His voice was very light.
His eyes were sad and exhausted, like a man who had finally accepted that he had absolutely nothing left.
“Go find your companions.”
“……………………”
Wen Jianyan’s fingers tightened. He took a deep breath, finally gave Hugo a nod, and then said softly to Wu Zhu: “Let’s go.”
Beside the train deeply embedded into the ground.
The group stood in place, waiting anxiously.
“When exactly is your President coming?” Figaro frequently glanced toward the end of the corridor, which had already lost its original shape, unable to hold back his question. “What exactly did he have us come back here for?”
If he remembered correctly, they had climbed up to this floor through the window of Carriage No. 1. This meant that the train was only this long, and they couldn’t follow it deeper down like they did before—
Could it be that Pinocchio really intended to take his advice and have them retrace their steps back up the train?
Figaro obviously hoped things were as he thought, but looking at Pinocchio’s posture earlier, the probability of that was really slim.
“Can you be quiet?” Ji Guan said irritably. “I told you before, I don’t—”
Before he could finish, he was suddenly interrupted by Blond:
“He’s here!”
Hearing this, everyone’s spirits lifted as they looked toward the end of the corridor.
Deep within the devastated path, the Pinocchio they had been anxiously awaiting appeared in their line of sight. Beside him, the golden-eyed, black-haired non-human hadn’t left his side for a step.
In the blink of an eye, the two arrived before them.
Wen Jianyan’s gaze was sharp, his breathing rapid: “Get in the train!”
Although they still didn’t understand what he was trying to do, the group’s movements weren’t sluggish. Swiftly and efficiently, they climbed through the window, returning to the inside of the train one after another the way they came.
It was exactly as they remembered it—cold, dark, and covered in dust.
Entering here felt like stepping into an alternate space-time.
The train car was tilted, and all the tables, chairs, and debris inside were piled haphazardly at the far end, looking incredibly messy.
Wen Jianyan didn’t climb back up the way they came, as Figaro had hoped. Instead, he turned around, his gaze landing on the other end piled with debris, and issued a brief command:
“Quick, help me move these out of the way.”
The group faithfully executed his order.
“Now can you finally tell us what you’re trying to do?” Figaro couldn’t help but ask while clearing the path.
Wen Jianyan didn’t look at him. His bright eyes, trembling slightly under some intense emotion, lifted to stare intently at the spot just ahead. He spoke slowly: “Remember when I brought you all into the train, I repeatedly warned you to grab the walls and not slide down?”
“Of course I remember.”
“That’s because I knew this train was a continuous loop, head connected to tail. So I was worried that if you let go and slid down, you might fall forever—”
A loop?
Hearing this, everyone was stunned, subconsciously looking at the train door that had been blocked by the debris.
Could it be that opening this door would lead them into Carriage No. 7, taking them back to the outermost deck?
“No,” Wen Jianyan shook his head, “Facts proved I was wrong.”
He raised his eyes, staring fixedly at the tightly shut door ahead.
“Actually, I had noticed this earlier. Every other door between the carriages couldn’t be locked, yet the door at the front of Carriage No. 1 was closed… But we were pressed for time then, so I didn’t carefully consider what that meant.”
“Until just now.”
“I suddenly realized the reason behind these things. Why this door was closed, why all the debris piled up here instead of repeatedly sliding back and forth inside the carriage due to gravity—it’s because this train is actually only a loop during its operation.”
“But, that’s not the only reason I reached this conclusion and returned here.”
All the debris blocking the door had been cleared. Wen Jianyan took a deep breath, stepped forward, raised his hand, and began to feel around the door in front of him, searching carefully, inch by inch.
“Besides that, I have more, much more proof.”
The train existed independently of Nightmare’s operation; it was built before Nightmare descended, before everything began. The entire train consisted of seven carriages, head connected to tail, forming a self-contained system that not even Nightmare could invade.
Finally, his finger stopped at the location of the door lock.
What appeared beneath his fingertip was not a keyhole, but a small, perfectly round groove.
Wen Jianyan lowered his eyes, his gaze landing on the Ouroboros ring on his ring finger.
It originated from the Ping’an Asylum instance, whose core ritual was the “Seven Sacraments.” Within the ring existed a space that even Nightmare could neither invade nor influence, a space capable of easily imprisoning even the remnant soul of a god.
Under his gaze, the ring’s snake head bit its tail, its blood-red eyes faintly glowing.
Wen Jianyan’s heart pounded wildly in his chest, feeling as if it would burst out of his throat the next second. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and slowly pressed the ring into the groove.
A perfect, seamless fit.
Accompanied by a click, the tightly shut train door slowly opened before them.
What is at the end of Carriage Number One?
It is the driver’s cabin.
