Infinite: Dawn Game

Chapter 685: Cry for Help

Xu Han thought he had misheard. After hesitating for a few seconds, he looked back at the "busy" NPCs and players on the other side of the deck and carefully lowered his head.

This time, he almost pressed his ear against the protruding cabin door.

The cabin door couldn't block out the growing noise from the people behind him. The cries for help and angry shouts from men and women pierced Xu Han's eardrums like noise, making his face turn pale.

There were actually people? And not just one or two... it was a whole group of people!

Xu Han's head was filled with a buzzing sound from the noise. He took a deep breath and didn't have the foolish idea of ​​opening the bottom hatch.

Just kidding, who knows if those "things" underneath the door are people or monsters?

He's not stupid; he's not going to release a bunch of weird NPCs that want to kill him and eat his own flesh!

But we just left it like that...

Xu Han hesitated for a while, squatting in place, silently looking at the wooden bucket opposite him.

If he remembered correctly, the wooden barrels over there were filled with a lot of sea fish that had jumped out of the sea... they must have been quite heavy.

The player who was lazily watching Xu Han's live stream had just yawned when he saw Xu Han sneakily run to the wooden barrel by the deck and reach out to lift it.

"...What is he doing?"

These are players who felt Xu Han's live stream was too quiet:

"This kid's luck is ridiculously good. So far, he doesn't seem to have encountered anything life-threatening, right?"

“...It’s infuriating to compare yourself to others,” one player sighed. “Look at the current state of the others, and then look at Xu Han’s. Sometimes you really can’t compare. That guy surnamed Zhu, if he hadn’t met Xu Han, would be just like those horned players.”

"..." One player sighed, "What can we do? Fools are just lucky. There's no way to compare with people who are born lucky."

"..."

In the square, people thought they were watching a live broadcast from the "leisure area." On the screen, Xu Han was struggling to carry four or five wooden buckets, panting heavily and sweating profusely.

"My goodness, I'm exhausted."

Xu Han raised his hand to wipe the sweat from his face. The hat that Brother Zhu gave him was quite useful, as it blocked most of the rain. Otherwise, he would be sweating and getting wet in the rain, and his strength would just disappear even faster.

He wiped his sweat as he looked at the hold door, which he had pressed tightly shut, and let out a long sigh of relief.

Whether it was an illusion or not, when he pressed the bottom hatch shut tightly, the cries for help coming from behind the door became so faint that they were almost inaudible.

Xu Han listened carefully and confirmed that there was indeed no sound.

Does this prove that he did the right thing?

Xu Han glanced at the crowd of people busily draining the water, a smug expression on his face revealing a secret satisfaction at having accomplished something.

It has to be him, otherwise what if those "things" that are making distress calls suddenly break open the cabin door and run out?

These wooden barrels can at least last a little longer.

Edge of the deck.

Angkor wiped the water from his face. His eyes had turned into the horizontal pupils characteristic of a goat—and not only that, his face was beginning to sprout flesh-colored cracks.

The cracks slowly crept in the torrential rain, and one could vaguely see some scarlet, blinking eyeballs.

The same horizontal pupils as sheep.

Beside him, Wang Ji's face was swollen and pale from the torrential rain. He looked at the increasingly heavy downpour with a sense of despair and murmured to Angkor Wat:

"We can't leave, how can we leave... how can we leave..."

“Angkor,” Wang Ji’s hands trembled as he gripped the wooden bucket, “Aren’t those idiots willing to turn back?!”

Wang Ji said this through gritted teeth.

Surprisingly, after he asked that question, Angkor was silent for a few seconds, then closed his eyes and said:

"...They agreed last night."

"We shouldn't have listened to them—what?!"

Wang Ji looked at Angkor in astonishment: "They agreed?!"

Angkor: "Yes, I went to the second floor again last night."

Why didn't you tell us?

Wang Ji broke down: "If we tell them, we can turn back—"

"is that useful?"

Wu Ge interrupted Wang Ji, staring intently into Wang Ji's red eyes, and said, word by word:

"With this kind of weather, this kind of torrential rain, and even the possibility of tsunamis and gales tomorrow or the day after... how can I explain this kind of return journey, which is almost obviously a dead end, to you?"

"..." The wooden bucket in Wang Ji's hand suddenly fell into the water, which was almost up to his calves. He grabbed his face in despair and murmured:

"What do we do? What do we do? What do we do? There are so many people, so many people..."

As Wang Ji spoke, tears streamed down his face, mingling with the rainwater and flowing to his lips, tasting salty, fishy, ​​and bitter.

“Angkor…we brought them out, we brought all these people out…can we, can we bear so many lives? Can we?”

Wang Ji's repeated questions echoed in Angkor's ears. His hands began to tremble, his lips began to quiver, and his heart, which had long since stopped beating, seemed to begin to sink and pound again.

Can he?

Looking at Wang Ji's tearful face, Wu Ge had asked himself this question countless times.

Can he?

Can he?

Can he?

The answer is—no matter how many times he is asked, he cannot answer this "simple" question.

"……I have no idea."

At this moment, the writhing crevices on Angkor's face completely burst open, revealing countless dense, deep, and cold horizontal pupils on his face, neck, hands, and arms, like barnacles parasitizing the human body and unable to move.

“Xiao Ji,” Wu Ge looked at Wang Ji’s face and said with a bitter smile, “If you can go back alive, please tell Hui Min that I’m sorry.”

Brother did not keep his promise to you. Brother... did not return alive from the sea.

So... I'm sorry.

"Angkor!"

Wang Ji seemed completely oblivious to the changes in Angkor's body caused by the pollution. His eyes were gradually turning blood red, and dense, purplish-blue lividity was beginning to appear on his forehead, spreading little by little. Even the underside of his eyes was showing strange blue scars.

"Angkor!"

Wang Ji growled, “We all have to live, we all have to live! You must live… There’s something, there’s something I need to tell you…”

Angkor's face and body, covered in countless crevices, stared at Wang Ji with half-open eyes.

Angkor looked back and took a step back, his steps slow and hesitant, as if he were subconsciously rejecting something.

Wang Ji, who had already transformed into a half-corpse, began to grow brown ram horns on his head. He grabbed Wu Ge's arm and suddenly brought his face close to the other's. The purplish-blue scars under his eyes were almost eerie, washed away by the torrential rain.

"...You, me, all of us...cannot give up on living...me..."

Wang Ji's voice gradually became distorted and ferocious. He opened and closed his mouth, uttering words that shocked Wu Ge to the point of distortion.