Not long after the players withdrew from Ghost Island, the entire island was dyed an ominous blood-red. Compared to its earlier gloom, it now carried an even more visceral, bloody sense of terror.
Combined with its very name, it inevitably brought to mind some rather unsettling legends.
The crimson, like fire and blood, reflected across the shoreline, turning the coast a blazing red. The tide of blood began spreading from the far end of the bridge, and across the sea, they could see the silhouettes of monsters surging toward them.
He Wuning exchanged a glance with Yi Luo, and the milk tea car idling at the center of the cross-sea bridge roared to life.
Before He Wuning could get on, Q-chan had already grabbed a small matchstick, puffing up his chest and declaring, “Leave this to me! I’ll light the fuse and run! You guys go ahead, I’ll catch up for sure!”
He Wuning crouched down with an amused smile and flicked his forehead. “Don’t make it sound so tragic. You’re just lighting a fuse.”
“Hehe…” Q-chan rubbed his hands shyly, looking a little embarrassed. “I’ve been watching a lot of Blue Star’s movies and shows lately! At the final battle, there’s always a heroic sacrifice character to push the climax, right? But I don’t want anyone to die, so I’ll do it instead!”
He chuckled foolishly. “And I’ve always wanted to say lines like that…”
“Don’t set up a death flag like that.” He Wuning patted his head, but in the end still left the task to him.
The milk tea car had already started moving. He didn’t fully climb aboard, just hooked one hand on the door and waved at him. “Come over once you’ve lit it.”
“Roger!” Q-chan gave a tiny, serious salute—somehow managing to look like the final scene of a movie.
The car slowly drove toward the rainforest area. After confirming they were out of the blast radius, Q-chan glanced back.
One end of the bridge had already been stained red, and dark shadows were spreading beneath the sea toward this side. Without hesitation, he lit the fuse and sprinted toward He Wuning.
“Sweetieee—!”
A deafening explosion erupted behind him. The scorching shockwave hit him from behind, sending him tumbling forward until He Wuning reached out and scooped him up.
Q-chan clung stiffly to his arm, refusing to turn back no matter what.
He Wuning glanced down at him curiously. “What’s wrong? Scared?”
“Not at all,” Q-chan said with a serious face. “But I heard real men never look back at explosions, so I absolutely can’t turn around right now!”
He Wuning: “…”
No matter how he said it, there wasn’t the slightest trace of “cool guy walking away from an explosion” on his face—he just looked like he was playing red light, green light.
He Wuning tossed him through the window into the car and jumped in himself. “Kids shouldn’t believe everything they see on TV.”
Padra, who had been dragged into this demolition just by being on the car, glanced back at the collapsing bridge sinking into the sea, then turned to He Wuning. “…Have you ever considered becoming a rock musician?”
He Wuning looked at him like he was an idiot.
Padra shrugged. “I’m serious. In a way, you’re actually very rock.”
The car drove into the rainforest. Padra couldn’t help leaning out the window. “If that’s the case, those monsters shouldn’t be able to cross, right? As long as we don’t let them fully occupy all the wild zones, stopping here should work in our favor…”
“It won’t be that simple,” Yi Luo said with a smile.
Ahead of them, the sea was gradually turning red. The blood-like color spread toward the shore, and dark shapes surged beneath the surface, as if something massive was about to break free from the depths.
Padra’s eyes widened in amazement. “I didn’t see any sea-region monsters earlier. Were they summoned just now?”
“No,” He Wuning said calmly, watching the monsters cutting through the waves toward them, unsurprised. “Based on our deduction, these monsters can probably switch roles themselves—like turning from flying creatures in the sky zone into aquatic ones in the ocean zone. Earlier, when they flew down in sky forms, there were barely any land-type monsters. But the ground monsters seemed to appear out of nowhere.”
“Thinking about it, we never actually saw how those land monsters got onto the ground.”
Padra frowned, scratching his chin as he tried to recall. “But if they really transformed midway, and none of us noticed… that’s pretty strange, isn’t it?”
“Huh?” Yi Luo raised an eyebrow. “Monsters disappearing and reappearing in different forms happened right in front of you. You seriously didn’t notice?”
“Not at all,” Padra said confidently, then rubbed his chin. “Maybe I was just too immersed in performing to think about it?”
“Yeah, that sounds about right,” he laughed brightly. “Even my teammates call me a rock idiot!”
He Wuning: “…He looks proud of it.”
Yi Luo nodded in agreement. “Definitely an idiot.”
“Haha!” Padra didn’t mind at all.
“Um…” Q-chan spoke up softly. “I actually have permission to know about this. Although Padra isn’t very smart… it’s not just because he’s dumb.”
“Hey, that sounds like a pretty harsh personal attack,” Padra protested, poking Q-chan—only to be completely ignored.
“Because role-switching involves the core mechanics of the game, there’s a cognitive filter applied to players,” Q-chan explained, reading from accessible system data.
“A cognitive filter?” Yi Luo raised an eyebrow. “Sounds pretty annoying.”
“Even if monsters switch roles right in front of you, unless you already know they can do that, your brain will automatically ignore related details,” Q-chan continued. “Even the Voice of the World probably didn’t expect you guys to realize the true nature of the game.”
“After all, if you don’t realize it, you won’t ask about it—so they never bothered to restrict access.”
“Impressive, right?” Yi Luo grinned proudly. “Li Liangzi figured it out.”
He Wuning gave him a speechless look. “You didn’t figure it out. What are you so proud of?”
Yi Luo laughed, eyes fixed on the approaching monsters. “Ah, the water types are here. Sorry, but we’re not planning to give up this ocean zone so easily.”
He raised a hand and called out to the players behind him. “Ranged units, take position—open with a volley!”
The combat squad was ready. Ranged players surged forward, setting up their weapons. At the command, a barrage of attacks rained onto the sea, blasting the hidden monsters below the surface.
The anti-aircraft machine gun atop the milk tea car switched to an electromagnetic cannon. Blue-white arcs of electricity crashed into the water along with the barrage, crackling wildly—turning the entire sea into a storm of lightning.
Rong Jiu, the frontline commander, glanced over at them. He didn’t mind Yi Luo taking over command—instead, he stood at the shore with arms crossed, watching fish-like monsters float belly-up with great interest. “So this is the joy of blasting fish, huh?”
In a way, they’d probably get along quite well.
After all, one loved nuclear explosions, the other loved blowing up fish—both shared an appreciation for the art of explosions.
“They’re coming,” He Wuning said, stepping into the water with his blade, ready to meet the monsters that had barely escaped the barrage.
Melee players lined up behind him.
The dense firepower ahead formed an almost impassable barrier. For the monsters, even approaching the shoreline required a heavy price. Only the strongest individuals managed to break through.
A massive blue-ringed octopus lashed a tentacle toward He Wuning. He flipped aside to dodge, while a tank-type player stepped in and threw a punch—only to be wrapped up by the tentacle with a scream.
The next second, he vanished on the spot—likely pulled into the dungeon defense event by Li Liangzi.
He Wuning sighed and called out, “Brute force doesn’t work on soft-bodied creatures—use blades!”
Even as he said it, he didn’t wait for others. He stepped forward and cleanly severed one of the octopus’s arms.
His blade cut through everything in its path as if nothing could stop it. Realizing this opponent was particularly dangerous, the octopus tried to flee toward other players—but the nearby melee fighters, having heard his advice, closed in and surrounded it.
The boss that once dominated dungeons was now besieged, howling as it collapsed onto the shallows. As it wavered and fell, watching its companions falter one after another, it seemed to glimpse the inevitable end of their defeat.
The blue-ringed octopus let out a silent scream. Its failing arm suddenly lashed out, grabbing a nearby player by the throat—as if determined to take one down with it even in death.
But the blade cut through its limb. Against the light, it saw the young man’s cold, killing gaze—and the gleaming tip of the blade driven straight into its forehead.
He Wuning turned to the shaken player. “You okay?”
“I-I’m fine!” The player scrambled up, grabbing his weapon and tossing aside the severed tentacle from his neck, his expression resolute. “I’m good!”
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