Day sixteen of the game.

Once more, tempests rose upon the sea.

A storm battered the ship. Outside the deck, sheets of rain fell so thick they blurred vision beyond a few meters.

Ye Shu wrapped herself tightly in a raincoat, blade in hand, driving her sword deep into the skull of another infected.

Last night, a pocket of people on the 80th floor fell to the infection.

Many perished in their sleep.

The team, once only a few dozen strong, had exploded to nearly a thousand; yet in the scant hours of night, hundreds were already dead, their numbers whittled back down.

The infected were no longer mindless wanderers. It was as if a leader had emerged among them—coalesced and focused, they began to attack en masse. By dawn, the players learned through the light screen: the 40th floor was lost with no survivors, and the few who remained fled higher.

By midday, the 50th floor had fallen.

By nightfall, the 55th was overrun.

No one felt safe—everyone scrambled for higher ground.

The 80th floor, earliest to recruit and to cleanse their infected, had become the center of attention. Survivors from below the 70th clamored to ascend.

"We’re all players here! Please, let us in!"

"The infected will be up here any moment! How can you shamelessly bar your door on the 80th floor? Are you even human anymore?"

"Uncle, miss, I'm just a kid! I don't want to die. I finally made it into college; my whole life is ahead of me. I just want to go home and see my parents alive... Please, let us up!"

Outside the heavy steel door, survivors pleaded pitifully. Li Dahai frowned, looking sideways at Ye Shu, searching for a crack in her expression, then turned uncertainly to Chen Meng at his side.

He had a child of his own, barely past twenty. Hearing those youthful cries pricked his conscience. He wavered, tormented atop the moral high ground.

Before the game, his family had vacationed on the South Sea. He was swept into this hellish game, and upon clearing, never got to embrace them again. His daughter, whom he’d doted on since birth and never so much as scolded, had exploded into a bloody pulp before his eyes.

His wife, miraculously surviving, was left in a stupor from fear...

Chen Meng, glancing at Ye Shu’s impassive face, spoke clearly and calmly, "Captain Li, we cannot open that door."

If it opened, the horde would swarm in. Everything they’d fought for—their discipline and preparations—would become a cruel joke.

Worse still, who knew if those survivors outside were already infected? To let them onto the 80th now would only lead to greater slaughter.

And then, there simply wasn't enough food—their own team could barely fill their stomachs.

Carefully, Chen Meng presented all this to the team, dissecting every risk. Li Dahai looked at the delicate-featured girl before him in shock; the same familiar face, yet her manner had matured immeasurably.

Meanwhile, Li Dahai himself remained lost in grief for his daughter, sympathy clouding his sense of duty to his team.

Seeing their pleas falling on deaf ears, the survivors outside turned from begging to bitter glares. Even pitiful words failed to spark any compassion here. Given the chance to enter, they'd kill those inside and seize their stores without a second thought.

"Open this damn door, or I’ll break it down myself!"

"There’s enough of us to bust through one lousy door!"

"You little bastards, if you let your grandpa in, I’ll massacre you all!"

"Selfish worms—if I die, I’m taking you with me!"

The moment it became clear they’d get no answer, the survivors' faces changed—curses followed, raging against the thick metal barricade.

Just minutes before, Li Dahai had been filled with pity. Now, only relief remained—thank goodness, he hadn’t opened the doors.

Ye Shu shot Chen Meng an approving look. At least someone in the team had a clear head—those outside were far from sheep. To survive this long on the cruise, none could be naïve lambs; only the likes of simple, trusting Li Dahai could believe otherwise.

She knew Li Dahai’s goodness, but misplaced kindness wasn’t virtue—certainly not when the line between wolf and sheep was unknown.

With no response from above, the survivors took to the public message board for attention.

[Your Grandpa Is Still Grandpa: The 80th floor is heartless, shutting us out.]

[Eating a Cool Apple: We’re all players, what’s wrong with lending a hand?]

[Blue and Want to Cry: I'm a player from the 65th—those on the 80th should share their resources.]

[Rich Thin Beautiful: The 80th floor is pure cold-blooded—you're just going to watch us die? You don't deserve to live!]

Chen Meng nearly lost her calm at the torrent of bitter comments flooding the light screen.

Worse, clueless bystanders soon joined the chorus.

[The First Dream: Shameless old vulture, where were you when we fought off the infected? Why don’t you share your gear now? Still pushing moral blackmail with your foul mouth... Always want the best for yourself.]

Ye Shu nearly spat out her noodles at that.

Chen Meng, soft-spoken as she was, not only excelled in slaying infected—her tongue was razor-sharp, much to Ye Shu’s delight.

[I’m Your Dad: Idiots, I’m right here on the 80th floor—come fight me if you dare!]

[I’m Your Dad: Idiots, I’m right here on the 80th floor—come fight me if you dare!]

[I’m Your Dad: Idiots, I’m right here on the 80th floor—come fight me if you dare!]

[………………Repeated ad infinitum.]

Ye Shu’s overzealous commentary soon got her a one-day ban.

"Garbage game—can’t even handle the banter," she muttered, poking resentfully at the light screen while tinkering to optimize her used-up guns and ammo. Yes, Ye Shu had finally mastered the 'optimize' skill—if her ammo ran low, she could simply optimize supplies back, a neat exploit she relied on.

With a reset in her save-state, she earned yet another life.

Trapped on the 80th floor, Ye Shu could only practice shooting in her quarters, occasionally trying out a set of Wing Chun moves sewn together from online tutorials.

Peace reigned in her corner of the world, while the players’ message boards ran wild.

The number-one spot on the leaderboard was held by I’m Your Dad—an impossible dream for many.

[Wang Strawberry’s Growth Diary: Did I read that right? The leader is on the 80th floor.]

[Moon Awake, I Awake: No wonder they’re so fearless with such a big shot present. Can I hug their thigh, please? Also, how do I rack up points? Even the cheapest items at the shop are out of my reach.]

[Great Wall Watch: Spotted a living legend!]

[Japan Is My Grandson: Star power! Why am I not on the 80th? Oh, wait—we’re not even on the same ship.]

[Another Day Trying To Eat With My Looks: Damn, the ace is by my side—I’m on the 80th too! Big shot, say hi!]

Below, the remaining survivors smashed bowls in anger as the forum’s tone turned.

On the 79th floor...

"Hah... leaderboard, number one—so amusing!"

In his luxurious cabin, Pei Yu’s lips curled up, as if something truly intriguing had just occurred.

"It’s just a lucky streak. Only Boss Pei is truly unbeatable," someone chimes in.

"Absolutely—the board means nothing," another agrees.

Pei Yu’s subordinates, catching the frost in his eyes, fall over each other to belittle Ye Shu and curry his favor.

"If they won’t play nice, we’ll have to get creative. Old Third, hand that batch of explosives to the survivors below."

Pei Yu traced the scar on his finger, and his smile turned cruel.