Liu Yuhan swiftly piled seaweed into her bowl—the only dish she trusted enough to force down her throat.
With fewer rivals this time, she secured a solid half-bowl. She chewed the coarse, salty strands in silence, her peripheral vision catching Zhang Hongfeng beside her, head buried in his meal.
The middle-aged man, famished after a full day of toil, relentlessly speared chunk after chunk of fish with his chopsticks, cramming them into his mouth and chomping with abandon.
He scarcely bothered spitting out the bones, roughly mashing a few times before gulping down flesh and bone alike, then lunging for more as if terrified someone might steal it away.
Liu Yuhan furrowed her brow faintly, tugging at the man's sleeve. "Uncle Zhang, stop eating. We have no idea what these fish really are."
Zhang Hongfeng froze for a heartbeat, though his right hand still clutched the chopsticks like a vice. "I'm starving... just let me have a little..."
"Uncle Zhang, if hunger's the issue, try the seaweed." Liu Yuhan slid her bowl toward him. "We leave tomorrow. Hold on a bit longer."
His murky eyes rolled sluggishly in their sockets, settling on the modest heap of seaweed. He tentatively plucked a strand, sucked at it thoughtfully, then spat it out with a sharp "ptui, ptui." "Tastes awful. The meat's so much better..."
This was utterly unnatural! Liu Yuhan scanned the other players, her gaze locking onto the long-haired girl seated directly across from her.
The girl, her makeup impeccably applied, jammed fish into her mouth just as voraciously. Her small jaws overflowed, cheeks ballooning out grotesquely, twisting her lovely features into a bizarre, distorted mask.
Sensing Liu Yuhan's stare, the girl gulped down her mouthful and fixed her with a blank, unblinking gaze. "Aren't you going to eat? The Sea God gets angry if you don't."
Liu Yuhan swallowed hard, enunciating each word. "I eat seaweed."
"Seaweed tastes bad." The girl scraped at the fish scraps leaking from her lips with her fingers, stuffing the yellowish-white flecks back inside one by one, her tongue darting out to lap at her glossy, oil-slicked corners. "This fish is so fresh and tender. Won't you give it a try?"
Her voice carried a seductive lilt, and Liu Yuhan felt the hunger she'd barely quelled surging back, fiercer than ever.
But how could the fish taste good? It was salty and overwhelmingly fishy...
The short man overheard the girl and hesitated before nipping off a tiny piece of fish, popping it in. He smacked his lips twice, his eyes fluttering shut in rapture. "Liu Sis, you should try some. No fishy taste this time—honestly, none at all."
One by one, more players thrust their chopsticks toward the platters of fish, savoring every bite with evident relish. They shot Liu Yuhan peculiar glances now and then, as if baffled why she hadn't touched such exquisite fare.
A wave of terror washed over Liu Yuhan, as if she were the sole human surrounded by ghouls in the dead of night.
Desperate, she turned to Lu Li for help, but the refined-looking man merely plucked up a morsel of fish with deliberate grace, slipped it between his lips, and smiled faintly with downcast eyes. "Aren't you curious about the flavor of mermaid, little miss? You can't find this anywhere outside."
His serene tone dripped with predatory hunger; Liu Yuhan's skin prickled, her voice lodging in her throat, speechless.
"The game will end soon." Lu Li set aside his chopsticks, drew a handkerchief from his pocket to dab at his lips, then lifted his gaze to her with a warm smile. "You won't savor fish this delicious ever again."
...
The lavish all-fish banquet vanished in short order. Bai Yanduan let out a satisfied belch, swiped a hand across his mouth, and ambled up the stairs with the languid glow of a man well-fed.
Logic screamed that the fish were tainted—likely transformed humans; yet the taste was divine, impossible to forget after a single bite...
No harm done. The ship was finished; they'd clear the instance tomorrow. What was wrong with one last indulgence? Bai Yanduan reassured himself, only to catch the patter of light footsteps trailing him in his haze.
He jolted, whipping around to find the impeccably made-up long-haired girl beaming at him, her voice syrupy sweet. "Yanduan, shall we sleep together tonight? We're about to part ways—might never cross paths again..."
"Ruoxi?" Bai Yanduan murmured her name uncertainly.
He distinctly recalled they'd only met that day, collaborating on a single clock tower exploration—hardly intimate enough for this. Was it the suspension bridge effect? Danger forging unlikely sparks of romance?
"Yanduan, pretty please?" Xu Ruozi suddenly pressed her full body against him, clinging to his arm.
Bai Yanduan, utterly inexperienced with romance in the real world—not even ten consecutive words with a woman before—felt his ears burn crimson, his heart thundering uncontrollably.
He reflected on their time together: aligned worldviews, enjoyable chats, comparable jobs and family backgrounds... Seemed like a decent match, actually?
As he wavered, Xu Ruozi tugged him into a room with easy familiarity, slammed the door shut behind them, and spun to pin him against the wall.
"Gulp." Bai Yanduan heard the swallow—not from himself, but...
Xu Ruozi's eyes were veined with blood, overlaid by a sickly yellow pallor like the lifeless stare of a dead fish. She draped herself over him, tongue slithering out to lick his face as if savoring a rare delicacy.
Bai Yanduan recognized that rapt expression all too well—from the dinner table, where she'd crammed fish chunks past her lips and down her gullet with the same fervor.
She wants to devour me! Alarms blared in his mind; he shoved the girl off him with desperate force.
His palm met her arm and slid across something slick. There, her skin had sprouted a coat of white fish scales, shimmering faintly in the dim light.
She's not human anymore! She's become a monster!
"Shall we go to the beach?" "Xu Ruozi" cocked her head, eyes boring into him. "Yanduan, come to the beach with me?"
Bai Yanduan's heart hammered toward his throat. He twisted the doorknob and burst into the corridor.
The floorboards gleamed wet and treacherous, smeared with unidentifiable slime laced with fish scales. Bai Yanduan sprinted wildly, but slipped every few steps, unable to gain speed.
The footsteps behind grew relentlessly closer; cold sweat drenched his back.
On the brink of despair, a powerful hand yanked him sideways into a room, then "bang"—the door slammed shut.
Bai Yanduan nearly screamed; his rescuer anticipated it, clapping a hand over his mouth before signaling silence with a finger to the lips.
He barely regained composure, lifting his eyes to meet Chang Xu's impassive face.
...
Liu Yuhan sat alone in her room, clutching her pen tightly as she scribbled and scratched in her notebook.
The "Strange Talk Notebook's" four deduction chances were exhausted; now it was just ordinary paper for untangling her jumbled thoughts.
Her mind drifted to the previous night, when she'd mingled among the apparitions, the eerie ditty tempting her to slink on all fours like the rest.
The young man with the recorder had noticed her, quirking a half-smile. "You don't want to die, do you?"
No one did. Liu Yuhan affirmed it inwardly. She refused to die.
"You think I can save you, right?" That was the notebook's deduced conclusion; she trusted her skill.
"You want me to save Zhang Hongfeng too, right?"
Yes—Liu Yuhan couldn't bear her obedient pawn dying due to her miscalculation.
"You'll agree to anything if I save you, right?"
The words built layer by layer, luring the prey into the snare.
Dazed, Liu Yuhan had nodded.
The youth lowered his gaze solemnly. "I want your soul."
Last night, she'd transcribed those lopsided terms onto her notebook's pages, signed her name—and her status bar promptly gained a new line: [Evil God's Follower].
[Your soul is pledged to the most malevolent god under heaven; your past, present, and future are forever under Its dominion.]
But Qi Si was clearly dead now. Why hadn't the status vanished? Weren't player skills supposed to expire upon death?
Perhaps this one operated on a higher plane, touching rules and the Main God itself?
Lost in bewilderment, a sharp "knock-knock" echoed from the door.
She approached. Lu Li's voice filtered through, muffled. "We sail tonight. Some won't hold out till morning. Yuna hasn't brought sleep aid soup at this hour—none coming."
Liu Yuhan objected. "The diary says we leave on the third day."
Lu Li chuckled softly. "Counting the day we landed? Today makes three."
...
After Lu Li's summons, Chang Xu and Bai Yanduan stepped out, one after the other.
The short man carried Lu Li at the front; the rest trailed in a ragged procession toward the fully mended wooden boat.
Milky fog enshrouded the islet, smudging the line between sky and earth into a murky haze. The towering clock tower loomed black and stark, a gaunt specter from legend, desolate and forlorn.
The boat rested amid the coconut groves, long and rickety. Players hefted its sections instinctively, hauling it toward the shore.
The yielding sand offered little resistance, and the craft was feather-light—like paper, almost. Within minutes, the turquoise coastline gleamed before them.
Beneath the jaundiced sky, emerald waves battered the white sands, sending shallow breakers whispering ashore.
The promise of imminent escape from the island and instance clearance lightened every heart.
Several burly men heaved as one, surging the boat into the shallows with a final grunt.
Lu Li stared at the hull in silence, then spoke. "This boat seats only four."
The players had already spotted it: three stark lines dividing the space into four equal berths, the limit plain as day.
Yet with Chang Xu, they numbered five.
The short man chuckled nervously. "Four or five makes little difference. We can squeeze."
Even as he spoke, he boarded first, Lu Li on his back.
Lu Li was a veteran player; inconvenience or not, his spot was assured. Matching with such a heavyweight was fortune—why squander the chance to curry favor?
The short man, having tended Lu Li after Ye Linsheng, had earned his keep through sweat if not deeds.
Lu Li gave a wry smile. "This is a rules-based horror instance. It specifies capacity for a reason—defy it at your peril; no telling what happens."
At that moment, a fresh rule scrolled across every player's interface:
[8. The boat must seat exactly four people—no more, no less.]
'Survival slots are fixed. One life gained means another's lost. Every survivor is a killer, but the diffusion of responsibility absolves the individual.'
Qi Si's words lingered in his ears; Chang Xu's eyes narrowed slightly.
Four out of five could live. Would he trade another's death for his own survival, shouldering a quarter-share of the guilt?
As he hesitated, a fierce gust whistled past his ear—something hurtled by.
Chang Xu dodged instinctively, but it still grazed his cheek, carving a stinging gash.
In that split-second daze, Bai Yanduan and another man had boarded, claiming the last two spots.
With four aboard, the boat drifted seaward on its own, passengers locked in.
Bai Yanduan looked almost apologetic, fishing bills from his pocket and thrusting them at Chang Xu while mumbling, "Chang bro, you've got skills. Take all my cash—stay on the island a bit longer; there's another chance to leave in three days..."
The others snapped from their trance, rummaging out their remaining notes and flinging them toward him.
The boat receded farther; the discarded bills fluttered down like snowflakes onto the waves, resembling long-dead fish carcasses.
Chang Xu realized in a flash: this was collusion. The choice to exclude one of five had formed tacitly; the rest had aligned without a word.
Since entering the instance, he'd kept aloof, positioning himself as the outsider; after Qi Si's mishap, he'd become a true lone wolf. So now, he was the one cast away...
In the hush, a resonant bell toll boomed like a boulder plunging into the sea, echoes rippling outward, borne by the wind to every corner of the island.
Chang Xu stooped to retrieve the object that had whistled past: a jagged shard of shattered plate, aimed straight for his throat. Had his reflexes faltered, his carotid would lie severed.
Thanks to book friends 20220704002428141, Please Be Quiet, Book in the Clouds, Stubborn Cangjie, 20220811092447860, 161206112807048, Qing Ye Yaoyao, and 20210906094025056 for your monthly votes! (A massive 4,000-word chapter)