Chapter 116: The Secret of the Amusement Park—The Old Crew Member’s Diary!
The golden-masked tourists could unlock the seventh floor—the so-called Twilight Hall.
Meanwhile, children could unlock the sixth floor—a place that sounded dangerous just by its name: the Amusement Park.
In the open-air swimming pool challenge, most chosen ones actually received two rewards.
The first was the invitation to the seventh floor.
This was undoubtedly crucial for surviving and leaving the cruise ship.
Because the chosen ones could gather intel that many silver-masked tourists were on the seventh floor—and many of them were their targets.
The second reward was less obvious—the untriggered rule:
[Rule 4: They are afraid of cats, but there are no cats on the ship.]
Edson pondered: Who exactly were “they” referring to?
The silver-masked tourists with that fishy stench?
But the more he thought about it, the more something felt off.
Wait a minute… Even if the silver-masked tourists are afraid of cats, what does that have to do with me?
The rule clearly states there are no cats on the ship. So why does it matter if they’re scared?
It seemed he needed more information to understand the true meaning behind this rule.
…..
Edson found a little boy in the open-air swimming pool.
He spent twenty minutes playing with him—acting like a horse, a cow, doing whatever the kid wanted—until the boy was finally happy enough to agree to take him to the Amusement Park.
The sixth floor seemed special. Only a child could press the button to access it.
Ding!
Soon, the doors to the sixth floor opened.
Edson held the child’s hand and stepped inside.
Ahead lay a massive amusement park, filled with countless attractions.
But this wasn’t just any amusement park—it was a children’s playground, filled with rides and games tailored specifically for kids.
Adults could only enter if led by a child.
By now, the chosen ones in this bizarre world had instinctively developed a habit: searching for rules.
Yet no matter how hard they looked, they couldn’t find any posted rules in this area.
This unsettled many of them.
Because they remembered one crucial rule:
[Rule 8: Every location has its own rules. Please follow them.]
If this was a designated area on the cruise ship, there should be rules here.
The absence of rules made many chosen ones nervous.
Having too many rules is manageable—but having none is terrifying.
Rules were the key to their survival. They provided safety and valuable clues.
Just as many chosen ones were panicking, Edson had already figured it out.
The rules for the amusement park were hidden in the crew’s guidelines:
[Rule 5: If a child invites you to the amusement park, you may go. But if they try to enter the carousel—RUN!]
Edson’s interpretation was simple:
Other children can ride the carousel—but the child I bring cannot.
If that child rides it, something terrible will happen to me.
He didn’t know what exactly would happen, but one thing was certain:
Breaking the rules meant death.
And this was the amusement park’s hidden rule.
…..
The child Edson brought had unnatural strength—far beyond what a kid his age should possess.
The moment he saw the amusement park’s attractions, he went wild, dragging Edson toward the rides with terrifying force.
Edson struggled to hold him back, feeling like he was wrestling a raging bull.
Helpless, he could only let the boy play on other rides, keeping him as far away from the carousel as possible.
The luxury cruise lived up to its name—even the amusement park was dazzling.
There were roller coasters, bumper cars, haunted houses, slides, toy castles, and, of course, the carousel.
Each attraction consumed a set amount of time—but that time was for the child to spend.
Some rides were sectioned off, hiding their interiors.
For example, the haunted house, toy castle, and carousel only showed their entrances and exits—nothing else.
This added another layer of difficulty for the chosen ones.
Edson analyzed:
I need to find a time-consuming ride for the boy, so I can explore for clues.
But I also have to keep track of when he finishes—if he gets out and I’m not there, he might head straight for the carousel.
And if that happens… it’s game over.
“Alright, let’s go play. Come on.”
Edson forced a smile and led the boy to the rides.
After confirming with staff how long each attraction took, he finally let the boy participate.
But as he walked deeper into the park, he noticed something horrifying.
Many children here were obsessed with the rides—even if they were injured, they kept going.
Near the roller coaster (which had no cover), Edson saw several boys who had passed out, their eyes rolled back, yet the ride kept looping with their limp bodies still strapped in.
And at the haunted house…
Pairs of adults and children would enter, but only the children ever came out.
Clearly, the death trap was inside.
Or perhaps, any ride that required adult accompaniment was a danger zone.
The children might be fine—but the adults? Gone.
Because this was the bizarre world.
Here, watching someone die—or get eaten alive—was normal.
People didn’t even blink.
After forming a plan, Edson took the boy to a ride that didn’t require adult supervision: the roller coaster.
The chosen one from Iron Tower Nation made a fatal mistake here.
He assumed that the way to gain intel was to accompany the children on the rides—just like in previous challenges, where completing tasks rewarded clues or items.
But when he boarded the roller coaster, it sped into a dark tunnel.
The tunnel’s ceiling was lined with sharp spikes.
Adults sitting in the seats would have their heads exposed—right at spike level.
But children? They were just short enough to avoid them.
When the roller coaster exited the tunnel…
The screen for Iron Tower Nation went black.
Their chosen one reappeared—headless, his skull pulverized as if shredded by a thousand blades.
…..
While other chosen ones scrambled for clues, Zhang Yangqing dragged his child into the amusement park.
To others, the children were unstoppable forces—constantly trying to break free and ride the carousel.
But Zhang’s child was… well-behaved.
Extremely well-behaved.
Whether it was voluntary or coerced obedience didn’t matter.
The boy didn’t cry or fuss. He just looked… terrified.
Who knows what happened in that elevator?
Or what horrors he witnessed?
Zhang scanned the amusement park and quickly deduced the hidden mechanics of this challenge.
Some rides were death traps, but others were safe for children to ride alone.
These safe rides were meant to occupy the kids while the chosen ones explored.
But Zhang didn’t bother with that.
He marched straight to the carousel.
The rules warned it was dangerous—so he wouldn’t let the boy ride it.
But with a child accompanying him, Zhang could enter the carousel area.
And he didn’t go alone.
He brought his two golden-masked female tourists.
Why waste such useful helpers?
They were more than willing to assist him—mutually beneficial arrangements were always welcome.
Zhang handed the boy to them with strict orders:
“Hold him. Don’t let his feet touch the ground. No matter how much he struggles—DO NOT let him go.”
If the boy rode the carousel, disaster would strike.
(And by disaster, Zhang meant he’d dismantle the entire park.)
Normally, two women wouldn’t stand a chance against this superhuman child.
But these two wore golden masks—their strength had been dramatically enhanced.
Pinning down a kid? Easy.
Strangely, the boy didn’t struggle much in their arms.
Maybe it was the soft embrace that calmed him.
Or maybe it was the bone-chilling fear Zhang had instilled in him earlier.
Either way, viewers couldn’t help but laugh.
“This kid’s so obedient! Unlike the others who scream and fight!”
“Obey? You just started watching, didn’t you? In the elevator, every time this kid whimpered, Zhang slapped him silent. Of course he’s ‘obedient’ now!”
“Damn, I thought his cheeks were just chubby and rosy… You’re telling me they’re swollen from slaps?!”
“Never doubt Zhang’s methods. He treats humans and monsters the same—no discrimination.”
…..
Zhang was the first to reach the carousel.
Other chosen ones, aware of the danger, hesitated—searching for clues elsewhere before daring to approach.
But Zhang? No fear.
When he arrived, he noticed something off immediately.
From the entrance, he’d seen adults accompanying children inside.
But now?
No adults in sight.
Only children—dozens of them—riding the carousel in a daze.
Some were foaming at the mouth, yet still laughing as if trapped in an endless loop.
Zhang wasn’t here to save them.
He was here to decode the rules.
Rule 5 had warned about the carousel’s danger—but how exactly did it kill?
Soon, he found the answer.
Near the fourth carousel, he noticed something strange.
This carousel was beautifully decorated, with winged, unicorn-themed horses.
But some of the unicorns’ horns were stained red.
And then… he smelled it.
A stench he knew all too well.
Rotting flesh.
Mixed with something chemical, something unnatural.
Leaning over the carousel’s railing, Zhang looked down—and uncovered the horror.
Even other chosen ones who saw this vomited on the spot.
Red-Cloaked Cardinal Gregorio winced in disgust.
But Zhang? Unfazed.
Because at the center of the carousel was a massive meat grinder.
The stench came from the pulverized remains inside.
Countless victims—adults, crew members, staff—had been sucked in and shredded.
Their remains swirled together into a sickening sludge of blood, bone, and fabric.
The sight was so grotesque that even viewers gagged through their screens.
“So that’s the rule’s enforcement mechanism,” Zhang mused.
If your child rides the carousel, you get pulled in and ground to paste.
No exceptions—tourists, staff, even crew.
This was a mandatory death trap.
Zhang considered: Could this be a lethal tool against hidden entities?
He didn’t yet know who the hidden weird of this dungeon was, but it was worth remembering.
Next question: Why did the rules lead us here?
Surely not just to show us the danger.
There had to be clues.
Searching the area, Zhang soon found a diary in a corner.
Beside it lay a numbered tag: 1059.
That number clicked in Zhang’s mind.
It matched the empty bunk in his crew quarters.
Every crew member had a number—Zhang (like other chosen ones) was 1057.
This diary and tag could only mean one thing:
His missing crewmate had died here.
Before his death, he’d thrown the diary out, hoping someone would find it.
And that was what the rules had wanted the chosen ones to discover.
Zhang didn’t read it immediately.
This place was dangerous, and he preferred not to use his powers inside the ship unless necessary.
(He’d only unleashed his strength once so far—on the ship’s roof.)
After confirming no other clues were present, Zhang regrouped with the two women, yanked the boy away (much to his silent dismay), and left the amusement park.
…..
As Zhang departed, other surviving chosen ones finally found the diary.
Most of them fled immediately—the carousel’s horrors were too much to stomach.
(Literally. Food was scarce in this world. Vomiting meant starvation risk.)
Unlike others, Zhang didn’t hide in some random cabin to read.
He went straight to the golden-masked women’s guest room.
Now, only three people were inside.
Zhang relaxed on a plush sofa, enjoying the comfort (and the women’s massage services), as he read the crewmate’s diary.
Most entries were mundane—daily life, hopes for the future.
But a dark pattern emerged:
-
March 1: New crew boarded. They stink—but only I seem to notice. Am I sick?
-
March 2: New crew disobeyed orders. The bosun punished them.
-
March 3: Bosun “drowned drunk.” Impossible. He never got drunk. I think the new crew killed him.
-
March 4: I investigated. Found proof they poisoned the mess hall.
-
March 5: Gave evidence to the new bosun (our old friend). He promised to throw them overboard.
-
March 9: Haven’t seen the new bosun in days. Maybe dead.
-
March 11: Crew disappearing. Last night, I felt someone watching me. My roommates never returned.
-
March 13: If this continues, I’ll die. I disguised myself as a tourist. Seems safer for now.
-
March 17: Disaster. The “new crew” are here too—disguised as tourists. They’re man-eaters! They consume tourists to grow stronger!
-
March 18: New crew and bosun boarded at port. Normal by day… but terrifying at night.
-
March 19: Found a safe spot—somewhere crew and tourists can’t reach. Selena, wait for me at Buro Port. If I survive, I’ll marry you!
Zhang sighed.
Bro, you were doing fine until that last line. You just doomed yourself.
The final entry was dated March 19.
Zhang asked the women: Today was March 20.
Diaries were usually written at night, recounting the day’s events.
Meaning this crewmate had died today.
He’d thought hiding in the amusement park would save him—because the fishy-smelling entities only hunted lone tourists.
And the new crew were restricted to the first two floors, unable to reach him.
Even golden-masked tourists couldn’t enter the amusement park.
But he didn’t know the carousel’s rule—and paid the price.
His diary was a message… and a dying wish.
It mentioned a location: Buro Port.
And a name: Selena.
Zhang’s mission was clear:
Take this diary to Buro Port, find Selena, and deliver it.
But there was a problem.
Zhang had no idea where the captain or navigation room was.
No maps, no directions.
Even if he took control of the ship, how would he reach Buro Port?
Perhaps the Twilight Hall at 8 PM would provide answers.
There, he’d uncover the truth behind:
-
The fishy-smelling tourists.
-
The terrifying-faced crew.
-
And their real purpose on this ship.
For now, Zhang decided to rest.
Leaning back on the soft sofa, he let the ocean breeze wash over him.
……
Meanwhile, other chosen ones were panicking.
Zhang’s understanding of the rules came from his overwhelming strength.
But for others—like Edson from Soccer Nation—the diary was a heart-stopping revelation.
Time was now a life-or-death countdown.
After piecing together the clues, Edson formed a plan:
-
Original Crew & Tourists: Normal at first.
-
First Port: “Man-eaters” boarded, killed and replaced some people.
-
Second Port: New crew boarded—monsters in human skin.
-
Their Goal: Consume all tourists. If they succeed, chosen ones lose.
But there was a loophole:
[Rule 14: If tourists waste food, you can rally other crew to throw them overboard.]
Edson’s strategy?
-
Flood the Twilight Hall (7th floor) with food.
-
Force the tourists to waste it.
-
Trigger Rule 14—let the crew and tourists fight each other.
The more they killed each other, the safer he’d be.
Tonight at 8 PM, this ship would drown in blood.
