Dark, brooding clouds stretched endlessly across the sky, swallowing the heavens in shadow. With a thunderous roar, the storm swept in—the rain sheeting from the sky like a waterfall, drenching the cruise ship. The colossal vessel was no match for the mountainous waves, tossed about as though it might capsize at any moment.

Ye Shu clung to the railing on the wall, bracing herself as supplies tumbled and crashed around her room. Shatterproof glass windows bucked under the relentless battering of rain, trembling as if they might shatter at any second. She hastily taped them with X-shaped strips, hoping to stave off disaster.

This raging storm halted neither humanity’s hunt for the infected nor the infected themselves—the monsters simply vanished, their whereabouts a terrifying mystery.

The rain poured relentlessly for a full day. And for that day, Ye Shu remained locked away in her room, hiding from the wild chaos outside.

Only at dawn did the winds and waves abate, and the ship’s violent rocking ceased. It was then the devastating losses among the players became clear: the storm had come without warning, and the lower decks were washed away—rooms smashed, their occupants swept onto the decks or into the sea. The upper decks fared better, though supplies were soaked, polluted, and beyond rescue. Even the once-plentiful food now seemed pitifully inadequate.

Over half a million players now lay dead or missing—NPCs not even counted. Throughout the shimmering game interface, the air was thick with cries of anguish:

[Princess Yaoyao: The storm threw all my teammates into the sea! I’m stuck on the 11th floor, nearly submerged—I have nowhere to stand, please, someone help me! Female, 18, I’ll do anything! Just save me!]

[Game Can Be Lost, Hard-Boiled Egg Must Die: Little sister, come to me. Big brother will protect you! Unlimited baguettes, every day.]

[World of Flowers: I’m on the tenth floor. The crew was nearly all infected days ago—there’s not a soul left. Outside the door? Just infected everywhere. Brothers, I can’t make it. I’m checking out first.]

Someone @'ed this World of Flowers, but no reply ever came.

When the storm faded, the infected surged back—stronger than before, as if the ordeal had honed them. If not for the S-rank peachwood sword in Ye Shu’s hand, ordinary blades would never pierce their new, densely scaled hides, ratcheting up the difficulty of survival yet again for the remaining players.

‘Pup-pup-pup—’

‘Hissssss—’

Down an emergency stairwell, a handful of jet-black infected creatures pursued a young girl. Compared to other monsters, these looked far more formidable: black-purple scales armored their massive bodies, bursting their original clothing at the seams.

Ye Shu slid down the rails, pulling a handgun from her storage and firing at the infected—but the bullets had no effect. Her heart clenched, and with a sidelong glance confirming the monsters pressed close, she bolted for her life.

Not even a pistol can hurt them…

With their fish-like tails, the infected glided over the floors as if they were water, but Ye Shu narrowly dodged an attack and slipped into a room, slamming the door shut. Razor-sharp claws punched through steel, grinding with a piercing screech. In mere hours, even the sturdy iron door thinned under their assault.

“Boom—!”

A blast shook the corridor. Flames erupted, and the infected were caught in the fireball, blown clean in half.

Ye Shu hefted a rocket launcher, serpentining down the battered hallway as more advanced infected closed in. Spinning on a dime, she shouldered the weapon again and fired two consecutive shots.

[Ding! Congratulations, player, for slaying an Advanced Infected! Five points awarded.]

[Congratulations, player, for slaying Advanced Infected xN. Points awarded…]

The thunderous explosions left Ye Shu’s ears ringing. She wiped grime from her helmet, surveying the devastation: yawning holes in the cruise ship’s walls, and mangled, scattered bodies of the infected.

She even made a quick trip to the first floor. The forums’ warnings proved true—it was a living hell. Infected roamed everywhere, slabs of bloody meat carpeting the floors, and bloated corpses peppered the deck, gnawed by insects. The previous night’s storm had tossed even the ten-ton freight containers around like toys. Ye Shu spotted a small gash on the nearest iron container.

‘Clang, clang, clang…’

Suddenly, something banged inside the container.

Ye Shu instinctively sensed danger. Something was inside… She retreated immediately, just in time to feel the phantom gaze at her back—and saw, with a cold shudder, the gap in one container widening further: from the width of half a finger to more than a whole digit.

Ye Shu’s vision was keen, and with one glance, she caught a glimpse of a creeping, black-purple fin poking from the container, fifteen meters away. Her scalp tingled. Each cargo box could hold thousands—this was well beyond even her worst estimate. She broke into a sprint, fleeing even faster.

Yet, for all the chaos, the elevators had survived the storm. Power was still on and they worked fine. Ye Shu pressed the control and rocketed up to the 80th floor—the only remaining safe zone, where the infected had already been wiped out. Guards kept watch outside the elevators.

When they saw Ye Shu approaching, the sentry quickly lowered his staff, greeting her politely—she was now a legend on this floor: formidable, beautiful, and with no shortage of admirers.

“Where’s Deputy Captain Chen? I need her.”

The lower-deck containers wouldn’t hold much longer; whatever was trapped inside was about to break out. Better to deal with it head-on than let it become an even greater burden later.

Li Dahai and Chen Meng’s faces grew grim as Ye Shu explained the situation: infected packed inside the freight containers.

Her plan was simple—jettison the containers into the sea. Unfortunately, with most of the crew dead and no operational cranes left, that wasn’t an option.

Barely had they begun to debate a strategy when the containers burst open in a cataclysmic cacophony. The infected inside, packed like sardines, streamed out in a howling tide. The first floor was lost almost instantly; when food ran out, the horde sniffed for living prey and began their ascent.

“Help me… I don’t want to die!”

“Please, anyone! Save me! I’m the son of the XX Real Estate king from Huaxia—I’ll have my dad pay ten million, no, a hundred million the moment I get back… Ah!”

“How can there be so many infected—get away! I’ll kill you monsters!”

Desperate pleas, curses, and dying screams blended into a single wailing chorus. Li Dahai, watching helpless from the deck above, could only wish this game had never existed—if not for it, everyone would still be alive. It seemed this game had never intended for them to survive at all.

The lower levels sealed the elevator first, cutting off any escape upward. Following Ye Shu’s command, Li Dahai additionally barricaded every entrance to the 80th floor, setting up rotating patrols and double shifts to ensure the wall of defense would not fail—at least, not for a little while.

On the fifteenth day of the game, the infected horde ballooned in number. Fewer than a hundred thousand players remained; the NPCs were all wiped out. The upper decks were barricaded, lower survivors couldn’t get up, nor could anyone go down. Supplies dwindled—now, each player could expect no more than a hunk of dry bread and half a bottle of water per day. Grumbling and resentment spread, but with Ye Shu in command, no one dared stir up real trouble—yet.

“Sister Ye… What should we do now?”

In these fraught days, Chen Meng had come to deeply admire the young woman before her. Sister Ye must be an ability-user—her storage space must be vast, seeing as she carried endless guns and ammo. Though once a follower of Li Dahai, Chen Meng now preferred to side with the formidable ally she’d met by chance, a loyalty she couldn’t quite explain—though something about Ye Shu always felt oddly familiar.