Chapter 89: Hopeless Sea (Thirteen) Murderer-Felon

The beach was densely covered with fish corpses, white dead fish, each as long as a person, lined up stiffly, looking like human corpses from afar.

—Of course, these fish might have been human to begin with.

The Clock Tower bell had already chimed seven times, and there were still four hours until dinner. Qi Si let Chang Xu go ahead, and the two approached the shore, one behind the other.

Waves crashed against the beach, making a “whooshing” sound. From time to time, dead fish were washed ashore, haphazardly stranded, then squeezed together in parallel by new waves, stopping perpendicular to the coastline.

The scales on the fish skin had a feathery texture, clumped together stickily and wetly after being soaked by seawater, like a dirty sweater stained with sewage.

Only the fins were dry and stiff, but they weren’t ordinary fish fins; instead, they were huge white feathers, half the length of the fish’s body.

Qi Si suddenly remembered what Yuna had said yesterday—”Sleeping on the beach will get you wet.”

The word “wet” seemed too strange to describe a traveler, but if it described feathers, the logic made sense—

Yuna knew that if travelers slept on the beach, the feathers produced on their bodies would be “wet” by the waves, so she naturally reminded them.

Large schools of white fish swam in the distant sea, leaping out of the water one after another, drawing silvery arcs like flying birds. The shimmering shallow sea instantly brightened as if covered with a layer of reflective scales.

The fins of those fish had not yet turned into feathers, so they could only stay in the air for a short time. After noticing Qi Si and Chang Xu, they all turned and stared intently at the shore.

Qi Si vaguely heard a dreamlike song, rising and falling, seemingly far and near. The fish seemed to fly from the sea, transforming into angels with pure white wings, chanting hymns around him.

He lowered his head and saw a string of wide, heavy footprints on the beach, leading step by step into the sea. He knew, for no apparent reason, that the footprints belonged to the missing Xu Maochun.

Xu Maochun had joyfully thrown himself into the sea, dancing with excitement. No one knew if his end was death or an early departure from the instance… The sea is both beginning and end, embracing all and devouring all… Billions of years ago, fish crawled ashore and became humans; now, humans envy the freedom of fish and wish to return their lives to the sea… Chaotic thoughts surged at the back of his mind, and the whispers of the fish came through his consciousness: “We want to eat them… If we eat them, we can fly…”

“Then you’ll be washed ashore because your feathers are wet.” Qi Si kindly reminded them, and out of muscle memory, he turned on the Recorder, setting the volume to maximum.

【Fearing, pleading, I see only the sea and the drowned souls…】

The loud song drowned out the illusory singing. Qi Si stopped just before the dam of dead fish, and when he turned around, he saw Chang Xu continuously throwing black playing cards that glowed blue, slicing white fish in half. The splashing fish blood dyed a small patch of the sea light pink.

Chang Xu heard the Recorder, turned his head to look, and seeing Qi Si’s strange expression, calmly explained, “I couldn’t pull you back, so I thought I’d try to get rid of these fish.”

The scene felt familiar. Qi Si sighed, “Should I thank you for not leaving me to my own devices like Shen Ming?”

Chang Xu was silent for two seconds, then said seriously, “I apologize, I was inexperienced at the time and didn’t consider it thoroughly.”

“…”

The recording played on a loop, dispelling all false illusions. Qi Si saw Yuna sitting on a reef in the distance.

Countless dead fish were piled at her feet, all with their mouths wide open, white eyes staring blankly at the sky. Their fins were gone, leaving only a line of blood.

Yuna held a dead fish in one hand and a knife in the other, neatly cutting off the feather-like fins, tossing the fish corpse to the ground, and placing the feathers beside her.

Her movements were as graceful as if she were dancing. Crimson fish blood fell on her blue dress, unable to adhere or penetrate, splashing off like glass and sliding down, like decorative colored ribbons.

She seemed oblivious to their gaze, or perhaps simply didn’t care, and continued to pick up feathers one by one, sticking them onto a huge wing.

The wing was as white as a cloud, out of place with the filth on the ground, as if it didn’t belong to the orange-yellow world of the Hopeless Sea.

Qi Si watched for a while with interest, his lips curving slightly upward: “I seem to have some ideas about the background story of this instance.

“As a child, Yuna firmly believed that she would shed her scales and become an angel when she grew up, but as an adult, she clearly appeared more like a fish. She could only collect feathers and manually create angel wings.

“Merfolk or white fish eating players would produce feathers for her to collect; players might also mutate later and produce feathers… she could use all of it.

“On one hand, she trades human lives as sacrifices with the Sea God, and on the other, she accumulates raw materials for her figurines. Truly killing two birds with one stone.”

Chang Xu couldn’t understand Qi Si’s humor, frowning slightly: “According to this logic, Yuna wouldn’t need to give us Calming Soup; she could just let us die in the fish’s belly.”

“That’s true.” Qi Si smiled, then changed the subject, “But Brother Chang, does your family only need one kind of raw material for making figurines? Maybe dying later is better for the raw materials to ferment?”

Chang Xu was puzzled: “My family doesn’t make figurines. Do you mean Yuna needs various types of feathers, and players dying at different times produce different mutations?”

Qi Si hummed, then said, “Without Calming Soup, who lives and who dies would be entirely up to luck. At least the selection would be decided by the so-called Sea God, like a superior’s random inspection, which Yuna couldn’t know in advance.

“But with the added screening condition of Calming Soup, the power to decide players’ lives and deaths transfers from the Sea God to Yuna. She can control the number and selection of survivors through the distribution of Calming Soup, making things much more convenient for whatever she wants to do…”

Chang Xu suddenly understood. No wonder Yuna could distribute Calming Soup according to her preferences; it was because Calming Soup was not a mandatory mechanism of the instance but Yuna’s private “gift.”

Giving it was a favor, not giving it was her right, although if most people had it, the few who didn’t would surely die.

He pondered for a moment, then said, “I’ve heard from seniors that some NPCs in instances have a higher degree of autonomy and freedom, possessing intelligence and able to decide their own courses of action. Yuna clearly falls into this category.”

“Who knows? No matter how much autonomy they have, they are still limited by rules, aren’t they?” Qi Si looked up at the unchanging sky, and when he lowered his gaze, Yuna’s figure had already disappeared. Judging by the tracks on the beach, she had likely returned to the hotel.

He turned to Chang Xu and smiled, “Brother Chang, it’s getting late. We should head back too. If we’re late, we’ll miss the fresh food.”

“…”

As usual, the two walked back one after the other, following the remembered route, stepping over scattered feathers on the ground, stirring up flying sand.

After an unknown distance and time, a faint scent of blood drifted darkly, tickling their noses.

Qi Si felt something, subtly changed direction, pushed aside the leaves on both sides of the forest, rounded several sand dunes, and stopped where the smell of blood was strongest, where his view suddenly opened up.

It was a small patch of sand without coconut trees, and in the center lay a young man in a black tracksuit. He looked like he had been there for a while, as a pool of blood had already accumulated beneath him, staining the sand a crimson marsh.

Chang Xu went forward first, squatted beside the young man, and reached out to check for breath: “He’s already dead.”

Qi Si approached, stopping at the outer edge of the blood pool, and observed with lowered eyes: “Judging by the blood coagulation, he’s been dead for over three hours.”

He couldn’t find a handkerchief in his pocket, so he simply stood by, instructing his teammate: “Brother Chang, please turn him over. I guess he died from a blow to the back of the head.”

Chang Xu complied.

As he moved the corpse to turn it over, something fell from the head of the corpse. It was clearly shattered bone tissue, previously piled together and obscured by blood, making it impossible to see any abnormality from the front.

Qi Si exclaimed, “Whoa, that’s a lot of force, half his head was shattered. The murderer must be at least a head taller than the victim. Not many people are that tall these days.”

Chang Xu understood the implication: “Are you saying a human killed him? A player did it?”

“That’s just my guess.” Qi Si didn’t like to make definitive statements, as that could easily deplete credibility.

He analyzed in a casual tone: “Two people died last night. Xu Maochun was eaten by white fish after jumping into the sea, and Gao Mu was eaten by a Merman after falling asleep. His death doesn’t fit either of those methods.

“Also, Gao Mu and Xu Maochun’s rooms were full of seawater, but it’s dry here, without even the salty smell left by evaporated seawater. Clearly, he didn’t die by the hands of Ghosts.”

Chang Xu frowned slightly: “Why would the murderer kill him? Was it because of a side quest?”

“Who knows? It could be murder for profit…” Qi Si looked in the direction of the hotel in his memory and joked, “Or maybe they knew each other before, a grudge match.”

Chang Xu didn’t find it funny at all.

This was a faction instance. Although Lu Li’s insistence had set a peaceful tone, everyone knew that under the calm surface, undercurrents surged.

Once someone started killing other players, the zero-sum nature of the instance would be exposed, and the hard-won balance would be shattered.

Everyone would be in danger, harming each other, which was something he didn’t want to see.

“The most troublesome thing right now is that we don’t know who the murderer is.” Qi Si paused, then asked indifferently, “Brother Chang, have you ever played Werewolf?”

“I haven’t played, but I know some of the game mechanics and have watched others play.”

Chang Xu recalled: “A game usually consists of twelve players, divided into Werewolf and Good Guy factions. Good Guys primarily use banishment votes and role abilities to eliminate all Werewolves hidden among the crowd to achieve final victory; Werewolves hide among them, relying on hunting Good Guys at night and inducing Good Guys to vote incorrectly during the day as their means of victory.”

This seemed to have nothing to do with the faction game the players were currently engaged in.

Chang Xu looked at Qi Si, signaling him to continue.

Qi Si smiled: “I just suddenly thought that in collective decisions by irrational individuals, the probability of mistakenly killing a good person is over fifty percent.”

He looked back at Chang Xu, his smile meaningful: “Brother Chang, if everyone decided I was the mastermind, would you believe it?”

…Hotel kitchen.

The corridor was long and narrow like a monster’s tunnel, and an unbearable fishy smell lingered in the air. After being in it for a moment, one’s skin felt as if it had absorbed a layer of grease, causing waves of itchiness.

Strange fish bones hung on the wooden walls on both sides, half a person’s height, with spines as thick as ribs. If not for the relatively intact fish heads and tails, one might mistake them for human bones.

The deeper they went into the kitchen, the fresher the fish bones became. Some even had unfinished meat hanging on them, dangling like rags.

Zhang Hongfeng and Liu Yuhan walked one after the other, exploring deeper into the kitchen.

A faint “gurgling” sound of running water came from ahead, as if a faucet had been left on.

The blood on Zhang Hongfeng’s hands was almost dry. Blood mixed with brain matter was thickly smeared on his skin, giving a cold, sticky sensation.

He just wanted to wash off the dirt immediately. Without further thought, he quickly walked towards the sound of running water.

Turning the corner, he saw a sink with a row of faucets in front of him. One faucet in the middle was left on, and water flowed down with a “whoosh,” seemingly without regard for waste.

He walked a few steps to the sink and vigorously scrubbed his hands under the running water… From the moment she entered the kitchen, Liu Yuhan had been holding her notebook, following behind Zhang Hongfeng. In a moment of distraction, she saw the man with blood-covered hands, as if possessed, run forward frantically.

“Uncle Zhang!” Liu Yuhan tentatively called out.

Zhang Hongfeng, however, seemed not to hear, continuing forward and disappearing around the corner in a few seconds.

He was entranced!

Liu Yuhan knew that following Zhang Hongfeng in this situation was unwise and could very likely drag her in too, but she gritted her teeth and chased after him.

If she followed, Zhang Hongfeng still had a chance to live; if she left him, Zhang Hongfeng would definitely die!

Entering the kitchen was her decision. If Zhang Hongfeng died, it would be due to her decision-making error.

If such a situation occurred, she would never be able to forgive herself… Just a few steps, and Liu Yuhan was already out of breath.

Her physical fitness was already poor, and the surge of tension and fear made her legs weak, making every step difficult.

Zhang Hongfeng’s figure finally reappeared ahead. The middle-aged man was hunched over, washing his hands in the sink.

Seeing no one else around, Liu Yuhan quickly strode over, accidentally brushing against a wooden shelf.

With a “clatter,” a rectangular object fell at her feet, which she instinctively picked up.

It was an exquisitely framed oil painting. In the painting, a woman in a long blue dress held a huge wing, standing in the center of a deep black sea, her gentle and serene smile appearing eerily out of place in this scene.

Liu Yuhan found the composition of this painting somewhat familiar, very similar to the religious painting “Moses Exiting Egypt” she had seen on the wall of her hotel room, except the main figure had been replaced by Yuna.

Religion… faith… attempting to become a god… She seemed to grasp the beginning of some clue, but the scattered information was as tangled as her grandmother’s hair, impossible to sort out in a short time… “Why won’t my hands get clean?” Zhang Hongfeng’s trembling voice echoed from the sink.

Won’t get clean? An alarm blared in Liu Yuhan’s heart. She hugged the oil painting tightly and approached the sink step by step, cautiously.

“No matter how much I wash, they won’t get clean…”

Zhang Hongfeng repeated, his fear as vivid as a lamp in the dark, growing stronger and stronger.

“The blood is getting more and more, more and more…”

Liu Yuhan adjusted her thick glasses and clearly saw the golden-red blood flowing from the faucet in the distance, thick as pus, with a pungent, bloody smell.

No wonder it wouldn’t get clean… Behind the sink lay a pale angel’s corpse, covered in pure white feathers, its head tilted back and drooping, thick fresh blood gurgling down!

How could an angel appear here in such a state? Was it really an angel? What exactly had Yuna done?

Liu Yuhan maintained a calm expression, but her mind was already in a chaotic mess.

Without warning, a pair of cold hands rested on the back of her neck, then withdrew after just a touch.

She turned to look.

Yuna, in her blue dress, stood in a pool of blood, smiling at her, her hands signing word by word:

“Why, did, you, come, to, my, kitchen?”